Flesh Masks
by Tears of Reese
Summary: The Winchester brothers head to Chicago to check up on what seems to be your average, run-of-the-mill monster killing. Unfortunately, nothing is ever simple when Chicago's only openly practicing wizard P.I. is involved. As the three men follow the ever-confusing trail, one thing is clear: the fate of the world may not be at stake in this one, but it'll sure be a pain in the ass!
1. Welcome to the Jungle

****Author's Note: ****_Well, here we are - a new story after a very long while! This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before"Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._**  
**

* * *

**Ch. 01 - Welcome to the Jungle**

_Welcome to the jungle._  
_We got fun 'n' games._  
_We got everything you want._  
_Honey, we know the names._

_ ~ Guns'N'Roses_

_... ... ... ..._

The battered door of the corner mini-mart swung open with a rusty squeal. Two men stepped out onto the busy city sidewalk, the shorter of the two hauling a plastic bag full of junk food and a six-pack carton of beer. The taller one cradled a paper bag of actual foodstuffs in his one arm, his other hand shoved deep into his jacket pocket.

"You sure about this, Sammy?" Dean asked for the third time, craning his head to ogle a blonde in a fitted business suit and heels before turning to glare up at his younger brother.

"Yes, Dean. I'm sure," Sam snapped in exasperation. "The signs in this city have been off the charts. I mean, odd weather fluctuations, buildings burning down for no good reasons, weird deaths, you name it, all the signs are here, and now this dead couple turns up."

"So?" The elder Winchester brother shrugged, "This is Chicago. Stuff like that is routine."

"Yeah, but mixed up in all these cases is a man named Harry Dresden. If he's not working with the police directly, he's mentioned in passing in the case reports. We should at least talk to the man."

Dean hoisted the six-pack to the crook of the arm holding the plastic bag and pulled a packet of jerky out of the pocket of his worn leather jacket with his free hand. He popped a chunk in his mouth and glanced at Sam.

"Hmph," he grunted skeptically, mumbling around his mouthful. "Well, any guy who advertises that he's a wizard is either a fraud or a whack-job."

Chewing happily, he held the packet out to Sam, who turned it down with raised eyebrows and a mildly disgusted look. Dean stuffed the snack back into his coat pocket, shooting his brother a look of incredulous confusion.

"What?"

Shaking his head, Sam flipped the collar of his jacket up and hunched his shoulders to protect against the wind that blew against their backs. His brother kept pace beside him, the slightest hint of a swagger adding a bounce to his gait. Despite the air of relaxed confidence that he projected, Sam could tell that Dean was taking in every little detail as they walked down the street.

The elder Winchester winked at a tall brunette as she went past, but was sizing up her boyfriend and the businessman behind her as she smirked and winked back. His eyes slid to the right, taking in the cars that passed them. Red Chevy truck. Black Prius. Faded blue Tauris station wagon. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Sam sighed. It seemed they couldn't even buy groceries without going on high alert. It was a long-ingrained habit at this point, he supposed, one practiced since boyhood.

As they passed a phone booth, Sam had a quick realization. Tugging at Dean's arm to stop him, he gestured to the booth.

"Let's get his address. Here, hold these." He jostled his bag into Dean's arms and flipped open the booth door.

Dean rolled his eyes, but waited patiently while his little brother rapidly turned pages in the phone book.

"Here's his ad," Sam said over his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "You may not be far off about this guy."

Dean glanced over Sam's shoulder to read the little square of print and let out a bark of laughter.

"See?" He scoffed, "like I said, whack-job."

Sam glanced around quickly and then casually ripped out the page and stuffed it in his pocket. With a smooth turn, he and Dean fazed back into the jostling crowd on the sidewalk.

"Let's head back to the motel and get changed. His office hours don't end for a few hours more, so we should be able to get something out of him."

"Yeah, and we'll drive to get there." Dean was adamant. "I don't care how close his office is. I know skeevy motels are our thing, but I hate leaving Baby alone there. Why'd you make us walk anyways?"

" 'Cause you eat like a garbage disposal and you never exercise."

"Whatever."

"It's true."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

... ... ... ...

The jangling of the bell over Harry's door caused him to look up from his novel. Two young men, both easily six feet tall and wearing suits, entered the room. The shorter one stepped forward and rifled through his pockets as he began to speak.

"Harry Dresden? My name's Agent Tyler; this is my partner, Agent Perry. We're with the FBI and we need to ask you a few questions."

By the end of his short speech, the young man had slapped an FBI badge down on the desk and was now staring at Harry expectantly.

The wizard rose slowly and sauntered around his desk. Standing, Harry was just about as tall as 'Agent Perry'. Moving to stand directly in front of 'Agent Tyler', Harry casually leaned back against his desk and eyed both young men.

"No offence, but I'd like to know what brings you to my humble doorstep. The FBI and I had a bit of a… run-in a while back. Now they rarely dabble in my affairs."

Harry left the sentence dangling and raised and eyebrow at the two men. Without warning, he whirled around and slapped his palm over the badge that was lying on his desk and muttered a few terse words in Latin. The badge flashed blue for a moment before the words on it blurred and shifted.

Smirking slightly and shaking his head, Dresden turned back to the stunned men in his office and held the badge up.

"Thought so. Care to tell me what you two are really here for," he looked at the badge before turning to grin at the man who had held it last, "Dean?"

"Damn." Dean breathed, deflating a little.

The taller of the two stepped forward from where he had been lingering by the door.

"Well… um… I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my older brother, Dean. We're looking into some of the more… unusual events that have taken place around the area, and… uhhh… we thought we'd come to you first, seeing as –"

"Seeing as you seem to be in the middle of every single weird thing that happens in this city," cut in Dean, crossing his arms and looking sullenly at Harry.

"Am I now?"

"Well," Sam fidgeted a little, "we had the police give us a number of case reports… umm… The Kravos Murders, the Lobo killings, the 'Nightmare' incident."

"Hell's bells! Murph gave you all that?"

"Lt. Murphy wasn't in," Dean said, "We talked to a receptionist or something. Good looking brunette – ow!" He began rubbing his left rib where his brother had elbowed him.

"Since she thought we were FBI," Sam glared at his brother, "she gave us copies of the SI files we wanted without much trouble."

Harry ran his hand through his hair as he contemplated what to tell these men in his office. Just as he was about to speak, a little glowing orb zipped into the room, stopping suddenly to hover in front of his nose. The glow faded slightly to reveal a tiny humanoid sprite; the little figure snapped a smart salute and began to chatter excitedly in its shrill voice.

"Oh, Mighty Pizza Lord! I have come to report –"

Harry cut the sprite off with a gentle cough and looked pointedly behind him. The little fae spun around and froze in horror.

Dean jerked back in surprise and blinked a few times; then, with a derisive snort, he shook his head.

"Awww, hell no… I don't believe in faeries," he muttered.

Immediately, the tiny figure gasped. Clutching its throat, it staggered about in midair, its chest heaving as it tried to suck air into its lungs. It collapsed onto the desk and, with a final, rasping shudder, laid still, the orb of light that had surrounded it going ominously dark.

Everyone froze. Sam turned to glare at Dean, who was still staring at the pale figure on the desk with a mix between shocked disbelief and dawning horror. Harry looked surprisingly calm, though his mouth twitched a little at the corners.

"I-I didn't realize that… aw, hell." Dean began to mutter incoherently, running his hands through his spiky hair.

Without warning, the little sprite sat straight up and began to laugh, holding its sides and rocking back and forth. Harry joined in, pointing at Dean all the while. Even Sam began to chuckle as Dean looked about him, fuming.

"Toot. Toot, that wasn't funny," laughed Dresden, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Yes it was," grinned Sam, thoroughly enjoying his brother's discomfort.

"Yeah," grumbled Dean, rubbing the back of his neck and glaring, "freakin' hilarious."

Harry did his best to straighten up, after all, he had appearances to keep up – brooding, quick to anger, mysterious – standard wizardly fare. Schooling his expression into the sourest glare he could manage, he began to glower at the men before him.

Unfortunately, the intimidating glare never had its desired effect; an accidental glance at Toot, who was hovering in Dean's face, threatening dire harm and shaking his tiny finger in the man's face, caused Harry's mouth to twitch, and before he knew it, he had dissolved into laughter once again.

But then, Toot should never have revealed himself to strangers, even accidentally. That alone was cause for worry. Clearing his throat, he glanced at the two young men in his office.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave for a little while."

"If you'll just answer some questions first…" Sam's voice trailed off as Harry fixed him with a cold glare.

"Tell you what," the wizard sighed, relenting, "there's a pub nearby where we can talk undisturbed, and Mac serves the best food in the city. Steaks cooked on a wood-burning stove, homemade ale…"

At the mention of steak, the eldest Winchester's face split into a wide grin.

"We're in."

"Good." Harry scribbled something on a small sheet of paper, "Here's the address. I'll meet you there in two hours."

And with that, Harry ushered the two men out of his office and shut the door before either of them could protest. Turning back to the small sprite hovering over his desk, he narrowed his eyes.

"All right, Toot. What's up? I know you wouldn't come in here when there were witnesses unless it was important."

The little sprite buzzed over and lighted on Harry's extended palm. Looking up at him piteously, Toot rubbed his stomach.

"I'm hungry. You wouldn't happen to have…?" Toot cast a wistful glance towards the cabinet.

With a sigh, and knowing that he wouldn't get any information out of the dewdrop faerie otherwise, Harry opened the cabinet and pulled out a plate with a slice of cold pizza on it. He carefully ripped off the tip and handed it to Toot, who immediately began stuffing his face.

"What's the news, Toot?" Harry tried to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"Magic. Dark." The little sprite mumbled, chewing his way through a bit of red onion. "Death and blood. Heard it from Pip, who got it from a Brownie who lives near those werewolves you like."

"What kind of dark magic?"

"The bad kind, Harry," Toot gave the mortal a pitying look. "What other kind is there?"

* * *

**A/N: _"Flesh Masks" is now up on Inkitt . com in their Fandom/Fanfiction contest - if you feel so moved, go vote for it! (If not, continue reading and enjoy!) Contest ends Oct. 21, 2015_**


	2. The Ultimate Sin

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 02 – The Ultimate Sin**

_Overkill, enough is enough,  
__There's nothing left of me to devour.  
__You've had your fill. I'm all I have left.  
__What can stop your hunger for power?_

_ ~Ozzie Osbourne_

_... ... ... ..._

McAnally's was decently full that night. The smell of wood smoke and spices filled the room, wafted about by the low-hanging ceiling fans. Wooden tables were scattered amidst thirteen irregularly placed pillars. Mac himself stood behind the bar, flipping steaks, serving ale, and grunting replies at the occasional chatty customer.

Harry wove through the crowd and sat down at a small table in the corner. The bartender looked up and jerked his head in a greeting when he saw the wizard. Harry grinned and nodded back. Mac turned and plopped some fresh steaks on the grill and pulled out a bottle of his homemade brown ale. At the creak of the door, he glanced up and glared.

Sam and Dean, still in their suits, lingered in the doorway for just a second, surveying the room before sauntering in. They spotted Dresden sitting at a corner table and made their way over to him. Sam gave the ceiling fans a wary look as he passed under one. Dean and Harry both chuckled and the wizard signaled for two more ales and steak sandwiches.

"Good of you boys to join me," Harry drawled.

"Well, we aren't having much luck on our own," Sam sighed.

Mac caught Harry's eye and slid three plates across the oak bar.

"Just one sec, fellas."

Harry got up and retrieved the plates, because at Mac's, you got your own food, damn it. Soon, the three men were enjoying a hearty meal of steak sandwiches, potatoes, and green beans.

"Thish ish amazin'!" Dean mumbled happily through a mouthful.

"Yup. Mac's one hell of a cook," agreed Harry. "Now. What brings you to Chicago?"

"We got word of some weird killings," said Sam. "A brother and sister were found ripped to pieces in an apartment a few blocks down."

Harry winced and shook his head.

"Hell's bells," he muttered. "No one deserves to go like that. Any clues as to what did it?"

"Dunno," Dean took a swallow of ale. "We haven't been able to get access to the bodies, not even after Scully here gave 'em the ol' Puppy Eyes routine."

Sam glared at his older brother and took a rather vicious bite of potatoes.

"Thought you were posing as FBI. Aren't you hunters supposed to be good at that sort of thing?" Harry took a bite of his sandwich. "Well, if they do fall into the realm of the supernatural, you can bet I'll be seeing something soon, warrant or no."

Harry grinned at Dean, enjoying the other's scowl. _Serves the little Han Solo-wannabe right_. On the other hand, Murph's cases were rarely pretty and he'd lost his lunch more than once looking at her crime scenes. Remembering those instances turned his smirk into a worried frown. _Lucky me_.

"Yeah, well, bite me, Dumbledore," Dean snarled. "Seems the Lt. has a thing against FBI. Said that we'd need to show her a warrant to get anywhere near her case. Besides, that crime scene has already been cleaned up. All that's left to do is wait for the next killing. Unless you can scrounge up something with that mystic mumbo-jumbo of yours. Or do you just pull rabbits out of hats?"

Harry could feel his temper sizzle.

"Look here, hotshot, did you even read my ad? '_Harry Dresden — Wizard__. Lost Items Found. Paranormal Investigations. Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates. No Love Potions, Endless Purses, Parties or Other Entertainment." _Ring any bells?"

"Any thoughts on what could have done this?" broke in Sam, trying to return the conversation to its original purpose before his brother could antagonize the wizard further.

"Now, I never said we were working together on this case," the wizard frowned across the table at both of them. "I'm still getting a feel for what kind of people you two are. Right now, I'm not too thrilled to have you in my town."

Dean took a breath to verbally blast Dresden, but let it out with a grunt as Sam kicked him under the table. The younger Winchester looked earnestly at Harry, not quite able to achieve direct eye contact.

"Look. You've got every right to be suspicious of us. You don't know us. But we're gonna look into this whether you help us or not. Though, to be honest, I'd rather you help us – it'd get the job done a hell of a lot faster. So, any ideas on what we're hunting?"

"Lucky for you, you seem to check out where it counts," Harry didn't sound too happy, but he pushed himself back in his chair and sighed. "Our monster could be a lot of things. Loup-garou, warlock with the right set of spells…"

"Some sort of demon, maybe? Or a Wendigo."

"Oh, God forbid, Sammy! What about a Woman in White? Or pissed-off witches?" Dean paused and shrugged with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Could always be clowns."

"Clowns?" Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow as he began to chuckle.

Sam couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he wanted to look annoyed or terrified. He finally settled on a glare and growled,

"Don't ask."

The men sunk into silence as they pondered all the monsters that they knew of. Harry brooded over his ale while Dean ate the rest of his food. Sam fiddled with his badge and looked around, taking in the old world atmosphere.

"It'd help if we could get a look at the stiffs," grumbled Dean, pushing his empty plate away.

The eldest Winchester looked to be about to say more, but was interrupted by a jostling at his back. A rather nondescript man with a bad haircut had elbowed his way to the table. He peered over the top of Dean's head at Harry. The wizard nodded at him in greeting.

"What's up, Stallings?"

"Lt. Murphy wants you to come take a look at a crime scene. We're at a loss on this one."

Both Sam and Dean perked up. Must be connected to the case they're working on, Harry thought. He sighed as the brothers turned matching gazes on him.

"Sure, I'll take a look. Anything you can tell me now?"

Stallings looked skeptically at Sam and Dean. Harry nodded and the cop shrugged and continued.

"It's bad, Dresden. A lot like the Lobo victims, but no claws or prints or anything this time."

Harry winced, stood, and began stacking the dishes. At the wizard's pointed stare, Sam plopped a few bills on the table. The four men hurried outside the pub and began walking towards their various vehicles. Stallings stopped a few feet away from an unmarked van and looked back at Harry apologetically. Harry raised his hands and grinned.

"You write down an address and I'll follow you in the Beetle."

"Thanks, Dresden. Rudy still hasn't forgiven you for blowing out the stereo last time."

Stallings scribbled an address on a scrap of paper while Harry rolled his eyes, muttering about little punks and professional hazards. Before the detective could walk away, Harry stopped him and jerked his thumb towards Sam and Dean.

"Mind if my buddies tag along?"

"The Lieutenant probably won't like it," Stallings began doubtfully.

"Let me deal with Murphy."

As the three men headed towards Harry's car, Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Harry waved him away.

"Call it a favor. You owe me. Don't go turning this into a buddy-cop thing."

At the wizard's insistence, the three men took his car down to the crime scene. Dean couldn't quite hide his pained expression as he laid eyes on what Dresden called a car. The battered VW Bug seemed to have been put together piecemeal from whatever scrap cars could be found – the hood, doors, and even the trunk were all different colors. With a muttered curse, he squeezed into the back while Sam and Harry settled themselves in the front.

Sam pretended not to notice how shabby the car was, but Dean was nowhere near as polite; he kept looking about him with an air of horrified disgust. Dresden shook his head in amusement and peeked in the rearview mirror.

"The Blue Beetle doesn't look like much, but he has what it takes in a pinch."

"Really." Dean tried to look like he believed him.

"Modern technology in general hates Magic; the Beetle is old enough that there are no delicate circuits to fry, and my mechanic can keep it running nine days out of ten."

With a rattle and a cough, the trusty car started and they followed the police van to an apartment complex several blocks away. Police cars surrounded the entrance. Next to one stood a short blond. She began heading their way as Harry parked the car.

The wizard graced her with a formal bow and a smirk.

"Why, Lt. Karrin Murphy, so good of you to meet us here."

"Can it, Dresden," the woman glared, but there was no heat behind it, as if she were participating in a long-established ritual.

"It's like getting out of a clown-car," muttered Dean as he unfolded himself out of the backseat of the Beetle. Seeing Murphy, his scowl morphed into a suave grin as he looked her up and down. "Well, hello there. You've gotta be lost, 'cuz you are too hot to be a cop."

Sam and Harry both choked back laughter as Murphy returned Dean's insolent stare, sizing him up from head to toe.

"Keep it in your pants, Shorty, if you want to keep it at all." Her eyes flicked to Harry and Sam. "Didn't know you were getting cozy with the FBI, Harry" she said coolly. "Aren't these the two agents who came sniffing around earlier today?"

"Actually, ma'am," Sam began, but Harry cut him off.

"They're hunters, Murph. Posing as law enforcement is kinda their thing – y'know, Mulder and Scully to your X-Files. Lets them talk to people less understanding than you and not seem crazy."

"They in your line of work, then?"

"Kinda," Sam shrugged.

"More stabbing, less flash'n'bang," Dean growled. "And we don't get paid for it."

"You trust them, Harry?" Murphy pointedly ignored Dean's interjection.

"I did some digging within the community and contacted a few sources. They check out, at least, in the monster-hunting areas."

"But, let me guess, I don't want to look too closely in the non-monster-hunting areas?" She turned to Sam and Dean, fixing them with a stern glare. "You cause any trouble in my town, I will lock you up. Clear?"

The brothers nodded sheepishly and Harry found himself chuckling. _It's like watching a pair of Great Danes back down from kitten_, he thought, though all comparisons to kittens ended with size. Tiny as she was, with her martial arts training, she could probably give either of the Winchesters a run for their money in a hand-to-hand fight.

"All right then, let's head in."

With that, she turned and headed for the apartment building. As the three men followed, Sam turned to Harry.

"You said you checked us out earlier too," he said in a low voice. "How'd you find out anything about us so quickly?"

Harry looked pityingly at the young hunter.

"I'm a private investigator. It's kinda what I do for a living. Besides," he raised an eyebrow, "I'm a wizard on top of that. You think I don't have ways of finding things out quickly?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and coughed as Harry chuckled.

"Oh yes, I _am_ the Spymaster." He wiggled his fingers in what he hoped was an appropriately spooky and arcane manner.

"You're a nerd is what you are, Harry," Murphy called from the doorway. "Now hurry up!"

They rode the elevator up to the fourth floor. Nobody said much as they braced themselves for the foray into the grisly crime scene. The doors dinged open and they filed out. As Sam was leaving, a young man with a neatly trimmed brown beard hurried up, carrying a basket full of laundry. Dean paused to size him up.

"Hold the door, please!" he called, closing the distance as quickly as he could.

Sam obliged, propping the door open with one hand and nodding as the man ducked under it.

"Much appreciated, Sir," the man bobbed his head in thanks. His brows creased suddenly into a frown as he peered down the hall in the direction that Murphy had gone. "Hey, you here with the cops? Is this about the young lady down in 427? Such a shame, that. She was a good neighbor."

"You see anything?" Dean kept his voice neutral as he flashed his badge.

"Nope. I was out when it happened. Came home to caution tape and paramedics." He lifted his laundry a little higher. "Well, thanks for holding the elevator. Good luck to you, Agents."

"We'll be in touch if we have more questions," Sam took his hand off the door. "What did you say your name was?"

"Oh, I didn't. I'm James. Delacourt," he added as an afterthought.

He nodded and the doors dinged shut. With a shrug and a sigh, the boys hurried to catch up with Murphy as she strode down the narrow hall. With their much longer stride, they caught up to her and the wizard before either had noticed that they hadn't followed. As they approached the door covered in crime scene tape, Harry tapped the short cop on the shoulder.

"Anything we should know before going in?"

"Stallings said you ate?" Her mouth thinned in a grim line as they nodded. "You might be sorry you did."

She pushed open the door and gestured for them to go in ahead of her.

It had been a nice room once – pale blue walls hung with modern art meant to remind the viewer of bubbles, a nice white couch and a glass-topped oval coffee table set in front of a bay window to form an inviting tableaux, and stainless steel floor lamps framing the scene.

But those walls were splashed with blood, dried now to a rusty brown. The artwork had been slashed and the shreds of canvas tossed about the room. The couch was overturned and covered with its own layer of blood and what looked like globs of raw meat mixed with shards of glass from the shattered coffee table. Half a floor lamp lay on the floor next to a crushed vase.

Harry felt his gorge rise as he stepped into the room. The carpet crackled beneath his feet, crispy with dried blood. He had once been in a room where the carpet was so saturated with fresh blood that it squished. _This is worse_, he thought, swallowing. The only thing that was preventing him from puking his guts out right there was the fact that the destroyed bay window let in a breeze that kept the cloying, coppery smell of blood from becoming overpowering.

A muttered curse from another corner of the room caused him to turn. Sam crouched beside what looked like a human arm. Ragged bits of ligament and bone showed where it had been ripped off at the shoulder. A short ways away, a human torso leaned obscenely against that wall as if it had been flung there. The sternum and ribs splayed outwards through the graying flesh, disconcertingly clean.

"Looks like someone had a snack," Dean remarked, gingerly prodding the edges of the wound with a pencil as he peered in. "Jane Doe's plumbing's been scooped out."

"Meet Allison Callahan," Murphy said from the door, thumbing through a file. "Events coordinator at a local recreation center just a few blocks away. Twenty-four. No criminal record of any kind, but she did go through the foster care system as a child."

Harry straightened up from where he had been examining the couch. Glass crunched as he picked his way through the debris to the broken window, grateful for the cool breeze. Looking down, he frowned and fished a handkerchief out of his pocket as he stooped down to pick something up.

"Curses." He sighed.

"What'd you find, Gandalf?" Dean straightened and walked over, followed closely by his brother.

A small black bag sat on the white square of cloth in Harry's hand.

"A hex bag," Sam rolled his eyes heavenwards and sighed.

"Freakin' witches, man! If they can't spew their own bodily fluids, they gotta go around spewing somebody else's!" Dean swung his arms to indicate the carnage on the walls. "I _hate_ witches!"

Leaving the brothers to confer between themselves for a moment, Harry went over to Murphy and dropped the hex bag into the evidence bag she held out for him. As she sealed it up, he ushered her into the relatively un-splattered kitchen.

"Han and Chewie over there said that there had been another killing like this?"

Murphy didn't quite meet his eyes as she nodded.

"Stars and stones! Karrin, why didn't you call me?"

"S.I. doesn't call you in for every case, Harry," she sighed. "You know how my bosses get if I rely too much on your 'consulting'. Besides, we initially thought this was a werewolf attack like the Lobo killings. Since we knew how to handle that, we figured we'd take this on ourselves. But now…"

Harry nodded and put a hand on her shoulder before turning back to the brothers.

"I'm assuming you're not going to let us handle this one alone?" At their negative response, he continued, "then I'm going to need to put you somewhere safe. For my own peace of mind."

"We're staying at a local motel. We'll whip up some protective hoodoo of our own, sleep with a knife under the pillow. This isn't our first rodeo, Glinda. We'll be fine, thanks."

"Not gonna cut it. There's an under-the-radar place I know, caters to our crowd and then some. I set up all the wards on the building and called in a few favors for a little extra protection. We'll set you up there."

Both Sam and Dean opened their mouths to protest, but Harry rolled his eyes and cut them off.

"I'll reimburse you for the motel fee and cover the new one. Call it a business expense." He turned to Murphy. "I'll add it to my fee." She glared at him, but he ignored her.

Sam finally shrugged and Harry nodded.

"Let's head out then."


	3. Gimme Shelter

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 03 **– **Gimme Shelter**

_Yeah, a storm is threatening  
My very life today  
If I don't get some shelter  
Lord, I'm gonna fade away_

_~Rolling Stones_

**... ... ... ...**

It was odd living in one of the places where the magical world mixed freely with the mundane. It was enough to drive anyone mad – well, anyone from the mundane side; the magical beings took it all in stride.

Gingerly balancing a mound of dirty sheets and linens, Kess made her way down the stairs and into the "laundry room" – once a covered back porch, now walled in and put to better use.

She and her mother ran a small inn called "Wren's Nest", a remodeled Victorian-style house huddled amidst its taller, more modern neighbors. Not entirely by coincidence, it was just a few blocks east of McAnally's Pub. Both establishments catered to the Arcane and Otherworldly, though the occasional lost tourist would turn up now and then, looking for a bed and a hot meal.

Because of the 'mixed' clientele, almost all modern technological appliances broke within the month they were bought. Finally, in frustration, Kess's mother had decided to do the laundry by hand. Thus, the renovated back porch, complete with a large copper tub, numerous clotheslines, and an old-fashioned ironing board with the kind of iron that had to be filled with hot coals.

Bustling throughout the room were three old Dwarven women – friends of her mother's from the Nevernever. No longer able to endure the harsh life of their mining towns, Tila, Rosie, and Brenna lived in the inn's basement – now refurbished into a cozy set of rooms with a private entryway. From there, they took care of the inn's washing in exchange for room and board, clothes, and food.

"I'll trade you," Kess smiled at them as she placed the pile of dirty laundry next to a neatly folded stack of fresh sheets.

One of the women cocked her head up as she returned the grin.

"With pleasure, Lass. Busy day today?"

"The last of the guests from the shapeshifter contingent just checked out," she sighed with a tired smile, "so I can finally finish remaking the rooms. I feel like I've been making beds and scrubbing bathrooms all day."

Baba Tila chuckled sympathetically as Kess bundled the clean linens into a basket and headed back into the inn. Quietly closing the door behind her, she made her way back upstairs, pausing only once to set the load down and catch her breath. As she was making the last of the beds, smoothing the thick homemade quilts over the crisp cotton sheets, she heard the inn's door slam and felt her mother's wards tingle slightly.

Someone magical who wasn't already a guest had just come in.

Another shiver passed through the inn. Two non-magical people had entered as well.

Thoroughly curious now, Kess hurried through the hall and paused just out of sight at the top of the landing. She could hear her mother talking to the strangers and she didn't sound pleased. After a few seconds, a familiar voice cut smoothly across her mother's growing tirade, causing Kess to grin and hurry down the stairs, hurriedly covering her ears with her hair.

**... ... ... ...**

Dean shifted his weight over to his right leg, scanning the room as he did so. According to Dresden, this inn was one of the few that catered to the supernatural, and was probably one of the safest places to stay undiscovered and undisturbed while he and Sammy cased Chicago.

The woman who ran the place seemed awfully wary of them. While both men had loosened their ties and Dean had taken off his jacket entirely, it wasn't like they were in their usual scuffed up jeans and plaid. They looked far more respectable than they usually did.

When they had first come in, she had been perfectly friendly, until Dresden explained what they were and why they were in Chicago. With that new information in hand, she had started the argument that they were currently in. Dean glanced over at his brother. Sammy was shifting from side to side, looking uncomfortable and giving the woman his best kicked puppy expression while Dresden tried to sort out the mess he'd made.

"We have customers from the Nevernever all the time! What happens if these two see something that they feel obligated to kill? Think of what it would do to business! We can't afford that kind of trouble," she scowled quite fiercely, "again."

"Jenny," The faintest hint of exasperation tinged Harry's tone as he ran his hand through his dark hair. "They need a place to stay. They're working with me, and I need to know that they'll be safe. This place is one of the few protected by the Accords."

"But that could change if they start trouble! Remember last time we put a hunter up? One werewolf dead and three of his pack wounded. We nearly lost our neutral ground status."

"Look, Ma'am?" Sam hesitantly moved forwards. "My brother and I just need a place to sleep. We don't want any trouble while we're here."

The woman, Jenny, still looked unconvinced. She opened her mouth to say something when the sound of light footsteps through the next room interrupted her.

"Harry! You came to visit!"

Dean looked up to see a petite young woman in faded jeans and a fitted blue t-shirt bound through the door and give Dresden an enthusiastic hug. The wizard lifted her a few inches off the ground as he returned the greeting and grinned at her.

"That I did, Sprite. How've you been?"

Dean really didn't really listen to what her reply was. He was too busy admiring her long legs and slim figure. Dark curls wisped about her face, covering her ears, while the rest of it was pulled back into a thick braid that ended right above some very attractive hips. Raising an eyebrow in appreciation, he glanced towards Sammy. His baby brother's face and neck had gone a dull shade of red and Dean could barely suppress a wicked chuckle.

The woman whirled to face the brothers and Dean just barely registered that she had brilliant blue eyes before she lowered her gaze. She smiled in their general direction before turning to Dresden.

"Who are your friends, Harry?"

"These two are the Winchester brothers, Sam and Dean. They're hunters-"

The girl's eyes widened slightly and she drew back a little.

"Hunters! They won't cause trouble, will they? Remember what happened last time?"

Dean rolled his eyes skyward.

"Geez, no amount of safety is worth this hassle. We shoulda just stayed camped out at that motel."

"Jenny, Kess, I need you two to trust me," Dresden looked pleadingly at both of them. "I know your wards are strong enough to handle any trouble that these two might bring because I helped you set them up. The Accords should keep anything hostile from coming here anyway, at least, anything intelligent

Both women looked skeptical, but after a few moments, Jenny nodded.

"Kess, make sure the upstairs room is ready," she said briskly as she bustled over to an antique desk and flipped open a slim book. "Gentleman, if you'll sign a few papers for me, you can have your room key. I'm afraid you'll have to park your car a little ways down the street. All the magic in this place will mess with your engine."

"I think his car is old enough that he could park here," Harry began, but Dean shouldered him out of the way to stand in front of the desk.

"Nothing messes with Baby. Where's the safest spot to leave her?"

Jenny scribbled some directions and a map on a scrap of paper and handed it to the hunter before turning to a file cabinet behind her and pulling out a sheaf of papers.

Leaving Sam to deal with the paperwork, Dean headed outside to park the Impala. When he returned with their duffels, he found that Dresden had left and his brother and Kess were waiting at the foot of the stairs. Without saying a word, she heaved one of the bags over her shoulder and headed up the stairs, jerking her head to indicate they should follow.

As they headed down the hall, Sam cleared his throat and reached for the duffel that the girl had taken. Her gait had become uneven and she was clearly struggling with the weight of the bag.

"Umm, Kess, was it?"

She turned around to glare suspiciously at his chin.

"My family calls me Kess. My name is Kestrel."

"Ah. Right. Um, well, you don't have to carry that. I'll take it."

Before she could reply, he gently took the duffel and slung it across his back, giving her one of his best smiles. She gave a small smile in return and hurried on, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind her ears, only to stop the gesture halfway and drop her hand back to her side.

The two brothers exchanged glances at the odd behavior, but said nothing. Soon, Kess stopped in front of one of the doors and handed Dean a key.

"This is your room. My mother already gave the first key to your brother, but here's the spare just in case."

Dean nodded his head as he opened the door and pocketed the key. As they filed in, Kess tapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Breakfast is at seven, downstairs. If you want clean sheets, you have to clear out around ten so I can take them down to the laundry and get clean ones for you."

With that, she vanished down the hall, leaving the boys alone in their room. Sam shut the door and looked around. The room was small and clean, with two freshly made beds that smelled faintly of jasmine. The plaster walls were neatly whitewashed with a few framed paintings hung at various spots. All the furniture was intricately carved and fashioned out of a dark mahogany wood and polished to a glassy shine. There was no carpet, but thick rugs covered much of the bare wood floor.

Dean dropped his duffle at the foot of the bed closest to the window with a low grunt. He checked the head and side of the bed and then growled.

"What - No Magic Fingers?"

"Must be part of what they mentioned earlier about magic interfering with technology. Look, no outlets anywhere, and the lamps are the old gas kind." Sam stepped into the bathroom to change out of his suit and came out grinning. "But they have running water – hot and cold."

"Huh," grunted his brother, unbuttoning his shirt, "It's like living in the freakin' 1800s…" his voice trailed off as he glared at one of the rugs in the middle of the room. "Sammy, check this out."

Sam wandered over to his brother and knelt down by the spot Dean pointed at. A quick flash of silver caught his eye. He frowned and flipped back the corner of the carpet. Inlaid into the floor itself was a silver Devil's Trap. Sam let out a low whistle and covered it again.

As he stood, he glanced up at the ceiling and choked. Coughing, he jabbed a finger upwards. Painted across the ceiling was a Seal of Solomon. To the average person, it would appear to be some sort of decorative mural, but every hunter knew what it meant.

"Well, they either want to keep demons out entirely…"

"Or keep them in after calling them." Dean plunked his gun on the nightstand that stood in between the two beds.

"I dunno, do they seem like the types to summon demons to you?" asked Sam.

"For all that he could, I don't get the feeling that Dresden would." Dean's voice was muffled as he pulled on a loose t-shirt.

"And I don't think Jenny or her daughter have that kind of power."

"Yeah. Though, did you notice that the daughter-"

"Kestrel," Sam interjected, sitting on his bed.

"Yeah, her. Did you notice that she never looked us in the eyes?" Toeing off his socks, Dean flopped backwards onto his bed. "Huh. Pretty comfy." Seeing his brother's exasperated look, Dean rolled his eyes and continued. "There's not much we can do just yet. We'll keep an eye on the girl, though."

Mollified, Sam grunted in agreement and swung his legs onto the mattress. After setting the alarm on the wind-up clock (the round kind with the two domed bells on the top - he had to chuckle) by his bedside, he flipped onto his side and turned out the light.


	4. Fear of the Dark

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 04 – Fear of the Dark**

_I am a man who walks alone  
And when I'm walking a dark road  
At night or strolling through the park  
When the light begins to change  
I sometimes feel a little strange  
A little anxious when it's dark._

_Fear of the dark, fear of the dark  
I have constant fear that something's always near…_

_~ Iron Maiden_

**... ... ... ...**

An hoarse shriek from outside woke both brothers instantly. Dean grabbed his gun while Sam jerked a shirt over his head and snatched up his knife. Not bothering with socks or shoes, the two men padded silently down the hall, moving as swiftly as the shadows they were accustomed to hunting.

As they neared the stairwell, they heard the front door slam and another feminine cry of distress. Jerking his head in the direction of the lobby, Dean cocked his gun and began easing down the stairs. Sam followed close behind, his back pressed against the wall, knife at the ready.

The lobby was dark and seemingly undisturbed – the windows were intact and the door showed no signs of damage. Only the sound of muffled whimpers broke the silence. While Dean moved to find the noise, Sam peered out the front window, hoping to see some sign of the attacker.

Dean found Jenny huddled behind the main desk, holding a shuddering Kess. Tears streamed down Jenny's face as she and her daughter put pressure on Kess's arm. Dean could see several gashes along the girl's forearm as blood oozed through their fingers. He also noted that, while she was shaking Kess kept her face stoic, lips pressed tightly together and nostrils flared as she concentrated on tending to her wound. Tears could come later. _Tough lady,_ he thought approvingly.

Just as he knelt down to see just how bad it was, Sam's hoarse exclamation caught his attention.

"Dean!"

He went over to join his brother at the window.

"Something's out there."

The brothers exchanged a knowing glance. Dean stayed by the window while Sam walked over to the frightened women. Jenny's tears had stopped, but Kess's arm continued to bleed sluggishly. Pursing her lips, Jenny looked up at Sam.

"Keep pressure on her arm," she said. "I need to call Harry."

Sam knelt down and set his knife on the floor. Worried at how much blood seemed to be coming out of the wound, he ripped off a strip of his undershirt and began wrapping Kess's arm, frowning as he watched five lines of red bleed across the cloth.

"How badly did it get you?" he asked.

"Just my arm," the shivering woman replied. "It's not too bad, really."

Sam raised an eyebrow skeptically and glanced pointedly at the blood oozing through the cloth. Kess let out a rueful chuckle, but didn't bother to elaborate. Closing her eyes, she wearily leaned her head back to rest against the wall. Both brothers noticed how labored her breathing had become and that her already pale complexion had become almost ghostlike. They exchanged worried glances as Sam applied a little more pressure to the wound.

"Do you know what did this to you?" Dean asked from his post.

"No," she answered, not bothering to open her eyes or lift her head from the wall. "I was out at the gate, leaving some cream for Grimalkin."

"Who's Grimalkin?" interrupted Sam.

"He's a gray tomcat who lives in the alleys around here. I leave food out for him every night. He's just starting to get comfortable with me, but tonight he wouldn't even come out of the bushes."

Kess shifted and hissed in pain when she jostled her arm.

"I was just heading back up our walk when I smelled something foul behind me, like rotting meat. I turned to look, but all I saw were shadows. The thing grabbed me and I screamed."

"That, we heard," muttered Dean.

"I cut myself trying to get free," she flicked a glance along her arm and frowned vaguely, "multiple times, it would seem… though…I thought… I could've sworn… I only felt one cut…"

"Claws?" Sam asked.

"Maybe… couldn't see," her words had begun to slur. "Got away, whatever it was. Felt it chasing me as I ran up the walk, but it couldn't seem to get past the porch steps."

Sam kept steady pressure on the wound while Dean crossed the lobby and poked around the door for a bit. Finally, readying his gun, he eased the door open and slipped outside. Sam and Kess heard him pace the length of the porch and tap the wood at various spots. He returned shortly and ran his fingernail down the front of the door. He gave his finger a quick sniff before dabbing it against the tip of his tongue.

"Front door's been treated with salt," he muttered, "but there's nothing except a Devil's Trap on the porch, no salt or silver on the steps."

Just then, Jenny hurried back into the room, carrying a first aid kit. Nodding to Sam, she knelt by her daughter and applied a fresh cloth to the make-shift bandage. Sam dusted off his knees as he stood and moved to join his brother.

"What do you think?" he murmured.

"No idea," returned Dean, keeping his voice low.

"Too many monsters with claws and we don't know what kept it out," grumbled Sam. "Not much to narrow down the search."

"What about the apartments? Not too many creatures kill like that."

"Yeah, but we don't even know if this is connected. Hell, we don't even know if this was a monster. Could just be a random stabbing."

From the corner, Kess gave a low moan.

"Don't worry, honey," soothed Jenny, "Harry will be here soon."

Sam glanced over his shoulder at the two of them.

"Her arm's still bleeding."

"Nothing we can do," growled Dean. "Let's take a look outside."

The brothers slipped outside, keeping weapons at the ready. A chilly night breeze rustled the leaves overhead in the trees that lined the walk. Down by the sidewalk, they found the shattered remains of a china bowl surrounded by white puddles of milk. As Dean bent to retrieve one of the pieces, Sam let his gaze roam across the foggy street and around their side of the sidewalk.

"Huh," he grunted as he turned to examine the gate. "Couldn't have been a demon. There's a Devil's Trap inlaid into the concrete. No sulfur smell, either."

"Plenty of things just as nasty," returned his brother, squinting at the chest-high fence and standing.

Fresh blood streaked the whitewashed wood. The fence-posts around it were chipped and gouged. More blood, looking almost black in faded moonlight, dotted the pavement in a trail to the door.

Running his hand along the top of the fence, Dean felt the rough patches cut out by their monster's claws, but nothing to lead them back to it – no fur, fangs, or claws. Just as he was getting ready to make another pass over the scene, faint footsteps sounded up the street. Without hesitation, he cocked his gun and aimed into the shadows. A man-sized blob headed steadily nearer.

"Dean?"

Harry Dresden came striding out of the fog, blasting rod in hand and duster flaring out behind him. Dean lowered his gun and shook his head.

"Dresden? Good thing you called out, or I'd've put two bullets in you."

The wizard pushed past him and hurried up the walk. He took the front steps two at a time and shoved the door open, not caring who he woke in his hurry. Sam and Dean trailed after him since there was nothing more to be seen out at the street.

Finding the two women still behind the main desk, Harry knelt down and pulled a plastic sports bottle out of an inside pocket. He pulled up the stopper and poked it in Kess's face.

"Bottoms up, Sprite."

The dark-haired woman tossed the concoction back and swallowed convulsively. Without skipping a beat, Harry handed her a second sports bottle.

"Now the other one."

Kess downed that one too. With a grimace, she wiped her good hand across her mouth

"Eugh. Tastes worse every time, Harry. What do you put in it?"

"Slime and snails and puppy dog tails," Harry rejoined sarcastically, examining her other arm. Already, the bleeding had slowed considerably. "Come on," he grunted as he gently scooped her up and stood, "let's get you to bed."

"It's my arm that's hurt, not my legs. I can walk." Kess protested as Harry maneuvered them up the stairs. The wizard ignored her token objection and turned down the hall, muffling their voices as they moved farther away.

Jenny slowly picked up the supplies from the first aid kit and put them back one by one. Her hands shook as she clicked the latch shut. She glanced at Sam and Dean as she walked past.

"Thank you for your help tonight. It could've been a lot worse if you hadn't been here." She kept walking, not waiting for any reply.

Sam frowned up at the stairs while his sibling eyed the doors that Jenny had gone through. Blowing out a breath, Dean ran both hands through his hair. Sam turned his attention away from the stairs to look at his brother.

"Her arm shouldn't have bled that badly, Dean. At least, not from shallow cuts like those."

"No kidding, Sammy. Poison-coated claws, maybe?"

"Or maybe it bit her instead of clawing her. Something in its saliva? Like a mosquito?"

"Nothing that interesting," said Harry as he came back down the stairs. "But, we'll skip the organ recital for now. Lemme take a look around."

Harry headed back down the steps to look at the gate. With an annoyed shake of his head, Dean followed, Sam in tow. Harry was already kneeling and muttering by the fence when they walked up. He stayed knelt down, examining broken bowl, splinters of wood, and blood splatters with equal intensity for a good fifteen minutes. Finally, patience gone, Dean nudged him with his foot.

"Anything, Gandalf?"

Harry stood slowly and stretched. Turning towards the hunters, he grinned smugly and held out a single wiry hair.

"Enough to track it with. Let's go back inside. No point in loitering out here."

Soon, the three men were seated in the warm front parlor. Wrapped in a terrycloth robe, Jenny handed each man a mug of tea before sitting in a plush chair next to Harry and nursing her own cup. Harry and Sam sipped at their cups, but Dean merely raised one eyebrow and awkwardly cradled the delicate china in his hands, ill at ease with such dainty items.

Sighing, Harry leaned back in his chair.

"Well, everything down there certainly feels the same as Allison's apartment. Little stronger, even, since it's fresh. Definitely the same sense of hate and the desire to hurt." He took another sip of tea and shook his head. "Nasty stuff."

Dean leaned forwards in his seat.

"The same how? Last I checked, one shattered bowl and a beat-up fence are not quite in the same league as a torn-up living room filled with body parts."

"Crimes like that leave a psychic residue of sorts. An emotional imprint, if that makes any sense. Two different incidents have the same feel, means they're probably done by the same person. Lucky I got here fast – they usually fade pretty quickly."

"So, what's that mean for us?" Asked Sam, draining his cup.

"Means that we only have to track one thing. Two things, tops – if the hex bags at the other two crime scenes mean that witches are involved. Did you find a bag at the gate?"

Both brothers shook their heads. Harry frowned.

"Huh, that's strange. I got an evidence inventory from Murph. They'd found a bag identical to the one at Allison's apartment at the other murder scene. If there wasn't one here, I guess they aren't marking their targets that way, then." He lapsed into thoughtful silence.

"Could it be coincidence?" Sam asked. Dean snorted before his brother could finish the thought.

"Right. How many coincidences do we get in our world, Sammy?"

Finally, Jenny stood up and gathered the cups and saucers on a tray. She looked around at the three brooding men in her parlor and gave a tired smile.

"There's nothing more we can do tonight, so we should all go to bed. Harry, there's a room made up for you as usual, if you want to stay the night."

Harry smiled and relieved her of the tray.

"You read my mind," he said as he carried it to the kitchen. Jenny chuckled and followed, bidding Sam and Dean good night.

* * *

**Ending Author's Note: **Thank you so much to everyone who's followed and reviewed my little story! Believe it or not, it motivates me to write faster. :)


	5. Won't Get Fooled Again

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 05 – Won't Get Fooled Again**

_Then I'll get on my knees and pray__  
__We don't get fooled again,__  
__Don't get fooled again__  
__No, no!_

_Won't be fooled again!_

_~ The Who_

**... ... ... ...**

Morning came far sooner than anyone wanted. Bleary-eyed, Sam rolled over and checked the clock by the bed. The display read 7:03am. With a groan, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. His brother lay sprawled on his stomach across the other bed, snoring slightly. Shooting a disgruntled glance his way, Sam hauled himself into a standing position and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

By the time he came out, he felt much more awake. Slipping into jeans and a plaid shirt, he tugged on his shoes as he rifled through their luggage for his backpack and his laptop. The noise caused Dean to stir slightly.

"Mrmph? Wassup?" His brother slurred sleepily. "What time s'it?"

"7:20 in the morning. I'm going to get some breakfast and then to the library to get some research done. See if we can't get some leads on this thing. I'll be back in a few."

"M'kay," Dean yawned and rolled back over, muttering, "Bring back some pie."

Sam sighed and shook his head, hefting his backpack over his shoulder. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, he made his way down the stairs. The inn was quiet, though a few shadows under doors indicated that some other patrons were up and about.

Unmoved by his brother's semi-conscious demand for pie, but wanting some actual breakfast of his own, Sam headed towards the dining room. A few other people browsed menus and several crumb-covered plates adorned empty tables.

Muffled voices came from the kitchen. Recognizing those voices as belonging to Jenny and Dresden, Sam chose the small table closest to the doors and pretended to browse the list of breakfast edibles while he strained to hear what they were saying.

"I'm not going to tell her, Harry, so you can quit bringing it up." Jenny sounded irritated.

"Look, she knows just enough to get into trouble, but not nearly enough to know how to handle things like whatever got her last night."

"We don't know if that has anything to do with it; besides, we've had this discussion before. I don't want her poking around in places that will draw attention to us. Telling her will just bring up too many questions that can't be answered."

"Because you don't want to answer them." The accusation in Harry's tone was clear.

"Because answering them won't change anything. I'm not going to tell her, Harry, and that's final."

With the harried look of someone who has been doing far too many things at once, Jenny hurried out of the kitchen, balancing several trays. Slouching out behind her came a sulky Harry, his dark brows knit in a scowl, hands stuffed deep in his duster pockets.

"Dude, do you sleep in that thing?" Sam blurted the question.

Looking entirely un-amused, the wizard swung towards him.

"I like my duster. It gives me a feeling of comfort," snipped Harry as he plunked himself down across from Sam. "What's your agenda for today?"

"Research and, if Dean has his way, pie."

"Library won't have much that'll be of use to you, but there are a couple of underground bookshops that cater to our kind in this neighborhood." Harry pulled a pen out of his pocket and scribbled a couple of addresses down on one of the napkins. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he handed it to Sam. "Can't really help you with the pie."

Sam nodded his thanks as the wizard got up.

"Got some digging of my own to do," Harry said as he sauntered out the door.

Once he had left, Jenny came by the table.

"'Morning, Sam. Do you want anything?"

"Just a bran muffin and some coffee. How's Kestrel?"

"Harry's potions helped with closing the wound and replenishing a lot of the blood she lost, so she'll recover fairly quickly, but she'll have to take it easy for the next few days."

"At least she'll be all right," Sam said. "That's good to hear."

"Thanks for asking." She flashed him a tired smile before heading off to get his food.

Sam made short work of his meal and headed outside. The previous night's activities had caused him to oversleep and miss his morning run, so he decided to walk to the various addresses instead of trying to get a cab or go steal the keys to the Impala from Dean.

Since one of the little bookshops was only a few blocks away, he made that his first destination.

**... ... ... ...**

When Dean woke up, the clock showed it to be just past eleven.

"Damn, Sammy. Why'd you let me sleep so late?" he mumbled as he sat up.

Silence greeted his query. Muttering, he shuffled to the bathroom. When he came back out, marginally more awake, he surveyed the empty room, noting his brother's missing backpack and rumpled bed. Sammy must have headed out early. With a shrug, Dean got dressed, grabbed his coat, and headed downstairs with the plan of calling his brother once he got a safe distance from Wren's Nest.

He saw Jenny and Kess as he went down the stairs. He was surprised the woman was standing after the night she'd had. Despite her upright position, her eyes were dull and she leaned against the wall for support, try as she might to make it look casual. Neither arm was bandaged, but Dean noted the dark red slashes across the one forearm. They were newly healed, but farther along than he thought they'd be.

Jenny stood between her daughter and the door, arms crossed.

"Absolutely not," she said in exasperation. "You should be resting upstairs as it is."

"For goodness' sake, Ma, I am twenty-one. I'm too old for naps," Kess protested. "Besides that, I slept for an extra five hours. Tillie changed all the beds so I wouldn't over-work myself-"

Jenny raised a hand to stop her daughter's tirade from gaining too much momentum.

"I know what you're going to say, and the funny thing about boredom is that it goes away when you're asleep – which is what you need after last night. Harry's potion doesn't just erase the damage. You still need to recover."

Dean decided it was time to make his presence known. Stepping forward, he smiled at the two of them.

"Morning." He turned to Kess. "How's the arm?"

"It's not bleeding anymore," she replied, exasperation coloring her tone.

"A fact for which we are all grateful, but you still need to rest," Jenny replied.

Kess crossed her arms stubbornly, mindful of jostling the healing one. "I'll take a cab, that way I'm sitting still most of the way and I'll have one of the clerks help me take the groceries out to the bus stop. The fresh air will do me good."

Since the women seemed to have forgotten him, Dean decided it was time to leave before he got sucked into their argument somehow. But, as he eased his way past, Jenny grabbed his arm. His shoulders slumped – too late.

"Since it appears I am not going to win this argument, will you take my daughter to get groceries?" Kess and Dean opened their mouths to protest, but Jenny didn't give either of them the chance to say anything. "After last night, I'd feel much better if she had a hunter to watch her back while she was out."

Dean sighed. The woman did have a point. It was safer for him to go with Kess and it would give him an opportunity to observe and possibly question the girl. At least she was easy on the eyes and there were worse things in life than taking a drive with a hot chick. Besides, it wasn't like Sammy needed any help on the research front.

And, most importantly, the grocery store would have pie.

"All right," he still couldn't quite keep from sighing. "I'll keep an eye on your daughter."

"Thank you," Jenny replied before turning to Kess, who was already pulling on her coat, even as she shook her head over her mother's attitude. "But when you get home, you are laying down to rest, do you hear me?"

"Sure, Ma," Kess sighed as she kissed her mother on the cheek and trotted out the door.

Dean followed her to the car, the faintest hint of a grin playing about his face as he listened to her mutter. His eyes slid downward and lingered. He had to admit, the view from behind was excellent and went a long way towards banishing any annoyance he felt at using the Impala for a taxi.

The drive to the grocery store was quick and uneventful, with Dean maintaining his rule of minimal conversation and full radio control. Kess didn't seem to mind the quiet and rested her chin on her hand as she stared out the window, breaking the silence occasionally to point him down the correct street.

When they reached the store, Kess grabbed a cart, pulled a rather long grocery list out of her pocket, and headed down the nearest aisle. Grocery shopping, it turned out, was much more involved than Dean had thought.

"We tend to buy in bulk," Kess cheerfully informed him as they wrestled an oversized bundle of paper towel rolls into the bottom rack of the cart.

"No kidding," he grunted, giving the parcel one last shove before he straightened up.

"Normally, we have our supplies delivered, but we had a convention of sorts last week – ate us out of house and home. This is just to tide us over until pick-up day next week."

Aside from the mind-boggling quantities that Kess stuffed into that single shopping cart, things were fairly routine. All the foodstuffs were recognizable – not a single ingredient that indicated spellwork went into the mix. As Kess balanced an eighth loaf of sandwich bread on the pile, Dean snagged a cherry pie and tucked it in amidst the shrink-wrapped value packs of chicken and steak.

"Payment," he said at her inquiring look, "for gas."

She shrugged and pushed the cart into the shortest checkout line. Once it was their turn, she gave the cashier and bagger an apologetic look as she began unloading the cart onto the conveyer belt. Seeing the size of her purchase, the man sighed as he rang up her items one by one. Despite his efficiency and that of the teen boy cramming the items into bags, it was still quite an undertaking.

Bored, Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels as he looked around. The video display of their lane's security camera caught his attention. He idly rotated his neck and watched the little black and white image of himself do the same.

His amused grin died a quick death when he glanced up a second time.

Across the picture was a line of static. That wasn't entirely unusual, but that line went through Kess's face and moved as she did.

Waiting for the cashier to tell her the total so she could pay, Kess glanced up at the camera. Dean hissed softly.

Through the line of static, two glowing dots showed where Kess's eyes should be. They vanished when she looked down to pull a few more bills out of her wallet, but the fuzzy line remained.

"Need help out to your car, miss?" the boy asked.

"I got it, buster," Dean said sharply, jerking the cart out of his hands and wheeling it out of the store. Startled by his sharpness, Kess whispered an apology to the boy and hurried after him.

The ride back to Wren's Nest was just as quiet as the ride to the grocery store was, but the silence was thicker somehow. At one point, Kess worked up the courage to ask Dean if anything was amiss, but the hunter's terse reply caused her to draw back and lapse into silence.

Dean parked the Impala a few blocks from the inn and carried the majority of the bags for Kess. She trailed behind him, lugging the remaining lighter items.

When they got inside, Dean rang the bell at the front desk and plunked the groceries on the counter. Kess followed suit and began rummaging through them. Jenny came out and thanked Dean profusely. He acknowledged her with a nod and headed back up the stairs, digging in his pocket for the room key.

"Dean!"

He turned to see Kess hurrying up the stairs after him.

"You forgot your pie." She held it out to him.

"Thanks." He took the proffered pastry box.

"Thanks for taking me. It was good to get out of the house, and I know it made my mother feel much better about the whole thing."

"Forget about it," Dean grunted.

Kess recoiled slightly and warily edged past him to continue down the hall. Dean watched her go with narrowed eyes before approaching his room and unlocking the door.

**... ... ... ...**

When Sam got back to their room, he found his brother brooding in a corner chair with a box of half-eaten pie on his lap.

"Where have you been?" Dean growled.

"Out. Doing research." Sam lifted an eyebrow at his brother's surly tone and glanced down at his lap. "Really, Dean?"

"Wasn't like you were gonna bring me any." Dean took a defiant bite.

Plopping his backpack on his bed, Sam rifled through it and pulled out a wad of photocopied pages. Dean tossed the pie onto the table next to his chair and pushed himself to his feet.

"Well, while you were buried in books, I got to take Kess shopping."

"Goody," Sam returned sarcastically. "Did you find some pretty shoes to match that jacket?"

"Grocery shopping, asshole. And you'll never guess what I saw."

Sam sat on the bed and listened intently as his brother described the shopping trip, the line of static in the security camera, and the ride home. When Dean had finished, Sam stood up and ran his hands through his hair. Abruptly, he turned back to his sibling.

"You know, I heard Jenny and Harry arguing when I went down for breakfast this morning. Something about her not telling Kess something important. Jenny seemed pretty convinced that it would be a bad idea to tell her."

"So, Kess has some funky mojo going on, Jenny knows more than she's telling, and Harry wants to come clean?"

"Seems like it. We don't know if Kess's thing is of the fangy variety though. Besides, seems unlikely that she'd rip up her own arm."

"True. And you can't fake the kind of fear we saw last night."

"What do we do then?"

"Run the usual gambit of tests, I guess. Figure out what kind of nasty she is, then move from there."

"You think Kess ripped up Allison and the first set of corpses?"

"Won't rule it out."

The boys spent the next few hours going through the pages that Sam had photocopied and poring over their father's journal. It was just after dinnertime when they heard a knock on the door.

Glancing at Dean, who was idly cleaning his gun, Sam got up and crossed over to the door. Opening it revealed Kess, who took a hesitant step into the room as Sam stepped back. She looked pale and exhausted as she leaned herself against the wall.

"Harry's in," she said, looking at the floor. "He asked me to come tell you that he wanted to talk to you in the dining hall."

"Sure," Sam said, gesturing for her to come further into the room. "Before we head down, we have a couple of questions about last night, if you're feeling up to answering them."

"I guess," Kess watched as he poured himself a glass of water from a flask marked with a cross on the dresser.

As he walked back to her, Sam stumbled slightly, sloshing the water over the rim of the cup. Several droplets splattered against her bare arm. Chuckling ruefully, she wiped them off.

"Careful. My mother thinks the rugs give the rooms a homey look, but I swear, more guests trip over them 'cuz they're used to carpet."

Sam forced a smile and set the cup down, glancing at Dean and almost imperceptibly shaking his head. Gently taking her uninjured arm, he maneuvered her towards the table by Dean's bed and gestured to the corner chair. She sat and he took the seat across the table.

"So we were wondering if you remembered anything more about last night. I mean, we covered smell and claws, but can you think of anything else?"

"Well, um, I heard heavy breathing behind me right before it clawed me. And, based on its arms, I'd bet it was taller than me, not that that narrows the field much." Her mouth twisted into a wry grin as she shrugged.

"Huh," Sam couldn't help but chuckle along with her, but he frowned as he considered the possibilities.

"Well, that means Hellhounds are out, eh Sammy?" Dean interjected from the bed. He put down the sawed-off shotgun he was cleaning and picked up an old-fashioned handgun. Carefully, he opened its chamber and began taking bullets out.

Sam nodded and excused himself to the bathroom briefly. Kess looked around the room idly while she waited. After a few moments of silence, Dean glanced up from his gun and placed a hand on her arm. The silver ring on his middle finger sparkled in the light.

"Hey. Sorry about being short earlier. Tired, y'know? Long night last night."

"Yeah," Kess smiled slightly and nodded her head. "Lack of sleep will get to the best of us. And despite how much I got today, it would seem I need more."

Sam came back and sat down. Dean glanced up at him and just barely shook his head. With a sigh, the eldest Winchester dumped the bullets he had taken out of his gun into a small box and tossed it onto the table. A few bounced out of the box and rolled across the tabletop to brush up against Kess' bare forearm.

She hissed quietly in pain and drew away abruptly, clapping her other hand against the spot they had touched. The Winchester boys frowned. She stood hurriedly and headed to the door.

"Well, Harry's waiting for you two. If I think of anything else, I'll tell you."

With that, she jerked the door open and hurried out. When she reached for the doorknob, she let go of her newly injured arm and both boys noticed several welts and a trail of burned, reddish skin where the bullets had grazed her. As the door shut behind her, Sam picked up one of the bullets and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger.

"What are these made of again?"

Dean narrowed his eyes as he stared at the closed door.

"Cold Iron."


	6. Grim Facts

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 06 – Grim Facts**

_Mmm. Grim facts, you know, growing all the time.__  
__Mmm. Grim facts, real grim. Yeah._

_\- Alice Cooper_

**... ... ... ...**

Harry was brooding. He sat at one of the tables in Wren's Nest's nearly empty dining hall and sipped his coffee, staring darkly into space. The dinner crowd had already left and the late-night snackers had yet to arrive. Occasionally, Jenny would pass by and refill his cup without being asked.

After pointing Sam in the direction of some of the more useful arcane bookshops, Harry had gone back to his apartment and conducted a few experiments of his own on a few samples of hair he'd managed to smuggle out of Allison's apartment and the single hair from Kess's attack. He'd taken them to Butters, who had confirmed that they did indeed come from the same creature.

What he'd found next had him torn between wanting to tear his hair out in frustration and hide in his basement, curled in the fetal position for the next few weeks. That probably would be better for his health if he did. Of course, then people would die and he'd be responsible.

That probably wouldn't be too good for his mental health.

"Nothing's ever easy in this town," he muttered, taking another sip of coffee.

Just then, Kess walked by, with a look of particular annoyance that Harry was intimately acquainted with. Jenny was mothering her again, and Kess's newly acquired adult dignity was smarting from it. Seeing him, her face lit up in a smile and she plunked herself down at the table, but Harry noted the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.

"You resting, Sprite? You look like hell."

"And you look like you're trying to figure out how to defeat it. Rough day, Harry?"

"I wish I had a pipe so I could blow smoke rings in an ominous manner and mutter mysterious things here in my corner. But, you didn't answer my question." The wizard narrowed his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I left a clear prescription of bed-rest and lots of fluids."

Kess shifted in her seat, not quite meeting his eyes. Harry sighed.

"In the twenty-one years you've been on this planet, you've never been able to keep a secret to save your life. Out with it."

"You're only thirty-two, so there's no need to sound so paternal," Kess grumped.

Harry just raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair.

"I badgered Mom into letting me do a grocery run. I didn't go alone," she raised a hand, "Dean Winchester drove me."

"Oh, that makes me feel much better." Harry's voice left no doubt about what he thought of that solution.

"I made him do all the heavy lifting and I took a long nap as soon as I got home." Kess hastened to add, trying to appease the cranky wizard across from her.

"Damn it, Jim! I'm a wizard, not a doctor!" Harry's voice softened. "And I have a hard enough time fixing people when they cooperate with me. If those raccoon eyes and that ghostly complexion are telling me the truth, you pushed yourself too hard today. After last night, with the amount of blood you lost, you need to go lie down."

Kess sighed and her shoulders slumped. Even after sleeping late into the morning and taking a long nap through the afternoon, she still felt drained. Nervous energy was really all that was keeping her upright at this point.

"No point in arguing with you when I know you're right," she stood slowly. "G'night, Harry."

"That's my girl." Harry smiled as she leaned over to give him a hug. "On your way up, will you tell our new hunter buddies that I need to talk to them?"

Kess nodded and headed out of the dining room, moving slowly. Harry leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his coffee. All too easily, his mind slid back to the newest problem that had found its way to Chicago. His mouth settled into a grim line. He was just finishing his cup of coffee when the Winchester brothers came down. Impatiently, he waved them over to his table. Both brothers, he noted, seemed pretty agitated, if their frowns were anything to go by.

"I hope you found something, Dresden, 'cuz we've got jack-squat," grumbled Dean as he sat, eyeing a couple seated a few tables down who were happily tearing into what appeared to be a pair of raw steaks.

"Oh, I've got something, and I'm willing to bet you'll wish I hadn't by the time this little powwow is over." Dresden called Dean's attention back to the matter at hand.

At that point, Jenny came by with the coffee pot and reached over to take Harry's cup. He tightened his grip on the handle and she retracted her hand.

"You boys want some coffee?" She asked, looking at Sam and Dean.

"No thank you. Just water and a salad for me," said Sam.

"I'll take a beer, if you have any, and some fries," said Dean.

"Just keep it coming," said Harry, eying his still-empty cup.

"How many cups have you had, Harry?" Jenny asked suspiciously. "I'm thinking I should probably cut you off."

"I am engaging in the time-honored wizard tradition of brooding, which is a state that requires steady caffeine intake to maintain," Dresden said with mock hauteur. "Now fill me up!"

Jenny rolled her eyes and smiled as she poured the wizard yet another cup of coffee. With a nod to the boys, she went off to get their drinks. Once they all had the beverage of their choice, they settled in to discuss business.

"So," the wizard began, "I got Murphy to let me back into Allison's apartment. The psychic residue there was almost identical to what I felt outside Wren's Nest last night."

"You said that last night," Sam said. "But, I thought you said that that stuff faded pretty fast."

"Blood remembers, boy." Harry suddenly felt very old and tired as he recalled the apartment. "Anyways, I wanted to double-check without you guys and Murph there to distract me."

"And?" Dean took a sip of his beer.

"I got a few hairs that S.I. missed and I ran some tests on them." Harry ran his hands through his dark hair and blew out a long breath. "We're dealing with a Yee Naaldlooshi."

"Well, shit," Dean sank back into his chair.

"A Navajo Skinwalker?" Sam spluttered some of his water. "Aren't those more Southwest monsters?"

"Never heard of one coming this far north before," said Harry grimly. "They're bad business either way. I'll whip up a tracking spell tomorrow. No point in hunting it down til we know how to kill it."

"Our dad collected a lot of lore on them," said Dean. "Strong, fast, creepy as all hell, and impossible to kill, or close to it. The tribes he talked to wouldn't give him much information on the things."

"That's because we do not talk about such things with outsiders for fear of drawing the Evil Ones' attention." A new voice spoke from behind them. "The less those things know of your existence, the better."

Sam and Dean turned and saw and old man with a leathery face and perfectly straight hair, once black, now gone to gray. On his shoulder perched a young raccoon.

"Your dewdrop faerie was surprisingly punctual in delivering your message to me. I came a**s** quickly as age and distance would allow."

Harry sprang to his feet and clasped hands with the old man.

"Well, magic certainly helps with the travel. Good to see you, Injun Joe. I'm glad Toot was prompt. Not sure what we'd do if he wasn't."

"Ummm," Sam fidgeted in his seat. "I'm not sure you're allowed to say that here."

Injun Joe turned to the hunter and smiled.

"Bah. This foolish white man knows he's supposed to say 'Native American Joe' now. You may refer to me as Listens-to-Wind."

Both brothers nodded and shook his hand.

"My name's Dean and this is my brother, Sammy."

"Sam," corrected the young Winchester shortly.

Listens-to-Wind nodded gravely and slowly sat down next to Harry. He glanced down and an indulgent smile wrinkled his weathered features.

"Little Brother, that is not for you. We do not take without invitation."

While they had been making introductions, the small raccoon had scampered onto the table and was busily washing one of Dean's fries in Sam's water. Completely nonplussed, Sam gingerly pushed the cup towards the little creature while Dean shifted his fries into his lap with a glare.

"It's okay, he can have it," Sam stammered, causing Listens-to-Wind's smile to grow.

"He thanks you for your generosity." The old man's face turned serious. "But now we have darker topics to discuss – ones that would be better suited to daylight if we had the time."

"But we don't," Dean said abruptly, "so what have you got for us? You know about these Skinwalkers?"

"All of my people do. They are shamans who have renounced our traditions in favor of the Witchery Way and have murdered their own kin to gain great power, casting off their humanity in the process."

"They have all sorts of nasty tricks," Harry began, but Dean cut him off.

"Those we know about. Shapeshifting and imitating any animal or human."

"I read in Dad's journal that they can even read minds," offered Sam.

"All true," Listens-to-Wind nodded gravely. "To meet their gaze is to invite them into your body. It is why they are feared."

"So how do we gank the sucker? I'm not one for letting it roam loose."Dean popped another fry into his mouth.

Listens-to-Wind stared into space for a moment. The other men allowed him his silence and waited. Only the splashing of Little Brother dipping bits of Sam's forgotten salad into his water disturbed the heavy atmosphere around the table. Finally, Harry reached over and put his hand on the old man's arm.

"Please," he said softly, "If you can tell us anything that'll help us stop it. It's killed twice already and sliced up someone under my protection."

The old man sighed and spoke tersely and quietly, not looking at any of them.

"There are only two ways of killing an Evil One. The first way is to shoot it with a silver bullet coated in White Ash. Few choose that way though – a Skinwalker's power has been known to render modern weaponry unreliable. The second way is to speak its True Name while it is in animal form. Such an identification would strip it of its power and cause it to wither away."

"Well," Dean tapped the table absentmindedly, "We don't know its True Name, so we'll have to risk it and hunt it the old fashioned way."

"Where do we get White Ash?" Asked Sam, frowning.

Listens-to-Wind shook his head and Harry sighed.

"At least we have a jumping-off point now."

"What about the hex bags?" Sam attempted to reclaim his salad from the little raccoon. "It doesn't sound like a Skinwalker would need to use one."

"Perhaps the coven who planted them are using them to control it," suggested Dean. "It's powerful enough that it could easily take them all out without proper precautions."

"I have never heard of such a thing," Listens-to-Wind said slowly. "But these are strange times we are living in." The old man stood slowly and held out his hand to Little Brother, who scampered up onto his shoulder. "I find myself tired now and too old for such late hours with such grim topics."

Harry gave him a sidelong look and rose.

"Well, I had Jenny make a room for you. I'll go with you." He turned to the brothers. "I'll keep researching. I have a few angles I haven't tried yet."

Sam nodded to Harry and turned to Listens-to-Wind.

"Thank you for your help, Sir." He stopped. "You didn't come here just to talk about Skinwalkers, did you?"

"When my young friend calls, I come," the old man smiled and followed Dresden out of the room.

Left alone at their table, both Sam and Dean noticed that most of the other diners had cleared out. Reaching over, Sam retrieved his picked-over salad and began to poke at it with his fork.

"Well, this just gets worse by the day."

"You're telling me. First witches, now a Skinwalker."

"And we still don't know how Kestrel fits into all this."

"Right. I'd almost forgotten about her." Dean stood and stretched. "Guess that means you get to go research White Ash and iron allergies tomorrow while I keep an eye on Kess."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll keep an eye on her," grumbled Sam as he scooped up the remains of his food to throw away.

"'Gotta do what we gotta do. Besides, you're better at the whole library scene than I am." Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder as he sauntered out of the room. "To each their own, man."


	7. Behind Blue Eyes

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 07 –** **Behind Blue Eyes**

_No one knows what it's like__…__  
__Behind blue eyes_

_~The Who_

**... ... ... ...**

Dean lounged against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Kess strip the beds of coverings and admiring the view.

"It's impolite to lurk, you know," the girl didn't even turn her head as she addressed him.

Lifting his eyebrows in surprise, he straightened up and moved into the room. Kess continued to ignore him as she bundled the sheets and quilts into her basket. Balancing it against her hip, she turned, only to huff out a surprised breath when she found Dean looming over her. He smirked when she took a hasty step back.

"It's also rude to sneak up on girls like that," she snapped.

"Wouldn't be sneaking if I did it any other way." Dean gave her his most charming grin.

"You think you're hot stuff, don't you?" Rolling her eyes, Kess scooted around him into the hall and headed down to the stairs.

Chuckling and stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, Dean followed, easily keeping pace with her.

"You and your mom run this place?" He asked casually.

"Looks that way, doesn't it?" Came the cool reply.

"Just the two of you? Where's your dad?"

"Permanently elsewhere, it would seem. You're very bad at the whole small-talk thing."

Dean blew out an exasperated breath as she pushed open the laundry room door and slipped inside, firmly closing it in his face. A few seconds later, she reemerged and marched over to a door under the stairs, balancing a tray of what smelled like chocolate chip cookies in one hand and fumbling with a ring of keys on her belt loop. Dean stepped closer as she unlocked the door and headed down some stairs. As she turned to close the door, he stuck his foot in the door jam and grinned at her disgruntled scowl.

Seeing that she wouldn't be able to keep him from coming, Kess sighed and allowed him to follow her down to the basement. As they got lower, the sound of squawking and off-key singing rose to meet them. Kess grinned as she stepped into the room, while Dean froze in shock.

At least three-dozen kobolds were scrambling around in the dim room. All of them were lumpy, deformed little creatures, and not a single one was taller than his knee. They crowded around Kess, whooping and cackling as they all chattered excitedly at her at once.

"All right, you lot," she laughed, hollering to be heard over the din, "Baba Tila needs extra hot water for laundry. She baked you some cookies as payment."

With a chorus of whoops and giggles, the little kobolds bounded and swung around the room, vigorously shoveling charcoal into the large furnace in the far corner. Those that weren't working climbed over the stacked cords of wood and burrowed in and out of the bins of charcoal that lined the walls.

Dean felt his jaw go slack as he watched one especially grubby little creature clamber onto a crate near where he stood at the foot of the stairs and wipe a sooty paw on the stained David Bowie shirt it was wearing.

"What's this?" he demanded, "A bunch of muppets?"

"Who's da fraggin' aardvark?" screeched a different kobold, hurling a lump of charcoal in Dean's direction.

"Hey!" The hunter shouted as he dodged the ill-aimed missile.

Kess grinned as she handed out the cookies.

"The fragging aardvark is Dean Winchester. He's a guest."

"Yeah… well… you're a fraggin' aardvark," mumbled Dean. "What the hell does that even mean, anyways?"

"It's a kobold insult," Kess replied cheerfully. "No need to be offended, they insult everybody."

"_No one can blame yooooou for walking awaaaayy,_" the little creatures had started singing again, their voices rising in an off-key rendition of a Bowie song.

"How do they even _know_ Bowie?" Dean grumbled.

"Harry installed a scrying mirror on the far wall," Kess had to shout over the noise to be heard as she pointed to the back of the room. "He hooked it up to another mirror in his friend's home. That one looks at a television set, so the kobolds can watch movies when they're bored. They're especially fond of Jim Henson."

By now, the koblods had warmed to their song and were screeching in a grating, but enthusiastic, chorus. Kess winced and hurried up the stairs, taking the empty plate with her. Dean followed and closed his eyes in relief when she shut the door, muffling the noise from below.

**... ... ... ...  
****... ...  
****... ... ... ...**

Muttering filled the dimly lit sub-basement. Sitting next to the scale model of the city that he and Bob had christened 'Little Chicago', Harry hunched over a few strands of hair, staring intently.

"Sergui votro testatum."

The hairs flared white for a moment, then threads of light coiled out from it into the model. Harry watched closely, noting the twisting paths the light took. Not unexpectedly, the light seemed to be heading towards the general vicinity of Wren's Nest. Established hunting grounds. Soon he'd pinpoint its lair and then he and the hotshot hunters could take it out. Harry smiled smugly, leaning in to see the light's resting place.

What he saw wiped the grin off of his face.

"That's not right."

Instead of one neat trail, the light had split into three streams. One led to a wooded park some blocks away from Wren's Nest, while the other two had circled back to the same apartment building that housed the late Allison's blood-soaked rooms.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and closed his eyes. He was tired enough from the casting. The thought of having to do more digging before being able to sort out this mess was wearisome beyond belief. Turning to an upper shelf that housed a particularly battered and rune-marked skull, he rapped his knuckles on the wood.

"Hey, Bob! Wake up! Come on, lazy daisy!"

The jawbone of the skull opened in what could only be assumed to be a yawn.

"Really? 'Lazy Daisy'? That's the best you can come up with?" Orange lights flickered in the eye sockets. Somehow, despite the lack of any sort of musculature or defining facial features, the skull managed to look annoyed.

"Well, you objected to 'Lazybones'. I figured I'd try something new – a variation on the theme, if you will," Harry grinned widely before turning his mind back to why he woke up the air spirit in the first place. The grin faded. "That's not why I woke you up though. Look at this."

From his place on the shelf, Bob peered down at Little Chicago on the twin streams of light that slid through the model. The skull gave the distinct impression of frowning.

"That shouldn't have happened. One sample, one spell, one stream. You must've botched it, Harry."

The wizard looked affronted.

"I've been making my living with tracking spells for years, thank you kindly! I'm pretty sure I know how to cast it."

"And when was the last time you paid rent on time?" countered the wind sprite, rattling his jaw. "Some living! But seriously, Harry, you're tracking one monster and that Allison chick is dead, so there's no reason for her apartment to show up once, much less twice."

"Maybe there's two? And witches on top," Harry rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. "That's not a fun thought." He reached up and pulled the skull down. "I need you to take Mister for a run and check out the apartment. Then come straight back and tell me what you found."

"No deal!" Bob countered promptly. "I want a full two days. I sit up there all day – shelf growing out the back of my skull. It's not good for the brain, I tell you! And when was the last time I got a new romance novel, huh?" the skull gave a good impression of a huff. "Well, I'm going on strike 'til I see some gratitude around here!"

Harry listened amusedly to the wind spirit's tirade. It was the same one he heard every time he asked him to do some recon. With an affectionate smile, he interrupted his friend.

"One day and a new novel. _After_ you come back and report. Deal?"

"Done!" Orange light began to bleed out of the skull, but Harry covered the eye holes with one hand.

"Ah, ah, ah. You go straight there, you come straight back. No frat houses, sororities, beach parties, keggers, movie theaters, or any date spots." Harry removed his hand.

"You're no fun, Harry." Bob pouted before streaming out of the skull and up the basement stairs to find Mister.

Harry trudged after him. All he wanted was some asprin and a nap, but he had one more thing to do. As he crossed his living room, he saw the cat flap swaying, indicating that Bob and Mister were already on their way. With a small smile, he picked up the receiver of his rotary phone and began dialing.

"_Hello?"_

"Would this be the residence of Billy and the Werewolves?" Harry asked sweetly, unable to resist trying to puncture his friend's twenty-something dignity. He could almost hear him roll his eyes over the phone.

"_Don't call us that, Harry. It sounds like a bad band name from the seventies."_

Harry just grinned at the groan that tinged the young leader's tone, but he got down to business.

"Listen, I need a favor."

**... ... ... ...  
****... ...  
****... ... ... ...**

After helping her mother through the lunch rush, Kess walked briskly to the kitchen, hoisting a tray of dirty dishes. Dean continued to follow, much to her annoyance, and his longer stride prevented her from losing him.

"Here," she sighed, plunking the tray into his arms. "If you're going to follow me, at least be useful."

Surprised, but noting how Kess's arms had trembled while she was carrying her load, Dean adjusted his grip on the tray and continued to follow.

Cheerful whistling sounded from the kitchen as Kess pushed the door open. A little man stood on a wooden stool, washing dishes over a copper tub. His skin was brown and leathery, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun, and his cheeks were round and red as apples. His green eyes glittered from under bushy red eyebrows and laugh lines curled up from them. Dean noticed that tufts of red fur grew from the tips of the pointy ears that peeked from amidst the curls on his head. The hunter eyed the small creature suspiciously as he dumped his load into the soapy water.

"Hullo, Hob," Kess said. "How's it going?"

"Ach, well enough, Lass," Hob replied, crinkling his eyes and showing his teeth in a broad grin. "You got your chores done so that the missus can get in and do her own?"

"Of course I did," smiled Kess. "Tillie can go and scrub and polish to her heart's content."

"That'll please her then," Hob jerked his head towards Dean. "Who's the other young'un?"

"Dude, I'm twenty-seven!" protested Dean.

"And Hob's several hundred years old," laughed Kess. "We're all babies as far as he's concerned." She turned back to the little man, "I just needed to drop off the plate. Anything you need me to add to the grocery list for next week?"

"Nope. The missus hasn't used up all of her polish yet. When she does, I'm sure you'll hear about it. Off with you now – I has chores of my own to do."

Hob waved at them both as they left. Once the doors swung shut, Dean shook his head in confusion.

"Was that a Brownie?" he demanded.

Kess nodded.

"Hob and his family live here and help take care of the place. I'm surprised he let you see him. Most of the smaller Fae hide from strange humans."

"How does your mom know so many non-humans?"

"Family friends." she replied.

"That doesn't answer the question."

"I know." Grinning, she walked down the hall.

Gritting his teeth, Dean threaded his fingers through his hair as he watched her go.

"Now you're just trying to be difficult," he growled and stalked after her.

**... ... ... ...  
****... ...  
****... ... ... ...**

The rattling ring of his phone woke Harry. With a grunt, he eased himself up from where he'd collapsed on the couch and picked up the receiver.

"Harry," he rasped.

"_What's wrong with your voice? Did you swallow a sand box?"_

Billy sounded more amused than concerned.

"Just woke up. Whatcha got?" Harry rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"_Your monster is definitely at the park, and whatever it is, it isn't anything we've ever dealt with. I don't think we're gonna be able to be of much help here."_

"You've already helped enough. Keep the Alphas away from there unless I call you."

"_I won't argue with you there. Gonna tell me what this is all about?"_

Harry just chuckled. Billy's annoyed sigh crackled through the receiver.

"_Figures."_

**... ... ... ...  
****... ...  
****... ... ... ...**

The bell clanged as Sam pushed the door open. This was the last arcane bookstore that Harry had written down for him. So far, he had nothing. If he struck out here, they'd have to find another way to kill their Skinwalker.

The blonde attendant smiled at him as he approached the counter.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked in that specifically perky tone that most sales reps seemed to cultivate.

"Yeah. I'm looking for books on White Ash and Cold Iron."

"Sounds like you're getting into some heavy stuff," her brow creased in a worried frown. "What you need is in our Restricted Section." She pointed to a roped off loft in the back of the store. "You can't take any books down from there without the owner approving it."

Sam gritted his teeth, but tried to smile anyways.

"Of course. How about you go get him while I browse? It really is important."

Giving him a dubious once over, the girl trotted back to find her boss while Sam made his way up the rickety wooden ladder and began flipping through the worn leather tomes. After skimming over a few of the volumes, he opened a small green book and idly began leafing through the pages.

His eyes lit up and he flipped through the section faster.

"Ah, miss?" he called. "You wouldn't happen to have a photocopier, would you?"

**... ... ... ...  
****... ...  
****... ... ... ...****  
**

Kess sighed as she shut the parlor door behind her. That hunter had been following her all day, peppering her with questions, and apparently her constant refusal to answer any of them hadn't been clear enough. She was almost tempted to go hide in her room for the rest of the day and claim that she was feeling tired. _It would be worth it,_ she thought, _if only to escape the endless questioning. You'd think he could take a hint._

Before she could commit to any course of action though, the parlor doors swung open and Dean stumped in. Steadfastly ignoring the hunter, Kess clenched her jaw, picked a book off one of the shelves, and settled into a plush chair.

Dean didn't bother with a book as he claimed the seat across from her. Leaning back, he crossed his arms and pointedly stared. With a sharp sigh, Kess finally lowered her book.

"Would it kill you to let me read in peace?"

"Just as much as it would kill you to give me some straight answers."

Kess rolled her eyes and stood up, as did Dean.

"I've told you and your brother everything I know. But, the straight answer to all of today's questions is: it's none of your business. Now leave me alone."

All vestiges of playfulness vanished, Dean's eyes narrowed and his voice turned hard.

"That's too bad, princess. My brother and I are trying to catch a killer that's already attacked this place once. Now you can either help me and give some answers or you can keep playing these games and more people can die."

Kess looked everywhere but at his face as she clutched her book closer. Patience gone, Dean reached out and jerked her chin to face him.

"Damn it, look at me!"

Surprised by his move, Kess didn't drop her gaze fast enough as he peered into her face.

Blue eyes, gold-flecked with feline pupils, pulled him in as a faint whisper chimed in the back of his mind,relentless in its softness. His brain gibbered with a complete awareness of who she was and the feeling of his own self being pulled out in return in a jangled joining of souls.

With a gasp, Kess jerked out of Dean's grip. Free hand outstretched behind her, groping for the door, she edged backwards. In a disconcerting change, she wouldn't take her eyes off of his face.

"Not possible," she whispered hoarsely, "not possible."

Dean was no less shaken than she was.

"What was that?" he demanded. "What isn't possible?"

Kess swallowed hard.

"Doesn't matter. It couldn't have happened." With that, she turned and fled.

Dean frowned and slumped back into the chair. He hoped Sammy had had more luck than he had. He shook his head to clear it, but the fluttering whisper persisted.

* * *

**Ending Author's Note:** _You know, it's rare that I'm nervous to post a chapter. Once I've decided to post a story, I'm usually fairly confident in the content. I will admit though, that this chapter and the chapter before it were very worrisome. Not only are they some of the earliest written (so they're about five years old - the oldest chapter is the first at six years old) __and thus, the most affected by changes within the universes' respective canons__, but they are the ones that are kinda crucial to the plot. If I lose you guys here, well..._

_So, anyways, suspension of disbelief is a scary thing when you aren't the one suspending it. Thanks for reading and all the reviews - keep 'em coming!_

_\- Reese_


	8. You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 08 – You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet**

_"You ain't seen nothing yet_

_Baby, you just ain't seen nothing yet_

_Here's something that you are never gonna forget"_

_ ~ BTO_

**... ... ... ...**

Sam found Dean lying on his back on his bed in their room. His brother didn't even turn his head when he slammed the door behind him, but continued to stare at the ceiling, hands laced behind his head.

"So, get this," Sam began excitedly. He stopped short and frowned. "What's up? You sick or something?"

Dean heaved himself into a sitting position, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

"Nope," he grunted, tilting his head to look at Sam. "Whatcha got?"

"M'kay," Sam began rifling through his backpack as he spoke. "Well, it turns out that White Ash can be made from the ashes of Holy Wood. See, the fire acts as a purifier that enhances the mystical properties that are already there. Rub some of that on pure silver and we have the monster equivalent of a grenade."

Dean's eyes narrowed in thought as he listened.

"Bobby's got some Palo Santo, doesn't he? You think that'll work?"

"Probably," Sam shrugged. "I don't see why not."

A short and static-filled phone call to their curmudgeonly mentor later confirmed that a branch of Palo Santo would definitely work for their purposes, but they would have to find it on their own. A rough exorcism had used the last of Bobby's supply.

"_What've you two idjits gotten yourselves into now?"_

"Nothing we can't handle, Bobby. Call you when it's over."

"_Just be careful. I ain't interested in looking for body bags."_

"Will do."

"Ask the wizard?" Sam asked with a shrug as Dean shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket.

"Looks that way. Unless you know anyone within a few hours' drive that has some stashed away."

Casting an irritated glance at his brother, Sam put the sheaf of photocopied papers on the table and sat on his bed. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, shaking his head. With a sigh, he opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. Dumping a few in his hand, he dry-swallowed the lot and grimaced. Sam narrowed his eyes.

"You sure you're not sick?"

"Nah," rasped Dean, clearing his throat. "Just a headache. Started about an hour ago."

Sam looked like he was about to say more, but a rap at the door stopped him. Dean made his way over to the door and pulled it open, leaning against the doorjamb. Jenny looked up at him and gave a small smile. Peering around him, the older woman caught Sam's eye and nodded.

"Oh good, you're both here. Harry just called. He said he's found something and needs you to come to his apartment right away." Jenny handed Dean a scrap of paper. "Here's his address."

"Thanks." Dean took the scrap of paper. He gave Jenny a strained smile and started to shut the door, but stopped short with a blink.

"Where's your daughter? She's usually the one playing messenger girl for Harry."

"Kess has a headache and decided to lie down." Jenny said slowly, as if unsure of the motives behind Dean's question.

"Well, she had a rough time of it the other night," Sam interjected, coming to stand by his brother. "She should probably be resting more as it is. I'm sure she's just recouping from that."

"I'm sure you're right," nodded Jenny. "I've already assigned her tasks to Tillie tomorrow. Even doing as little as she has been, it's still been too much." She heaved a sigh. "Anyways, enough about my stubborn daughter. You two should go see Harry. He said it was big."

With that, Jenny moved down the hall, knocking on a few doors to quietly ask if the occupants needed anything. With a shrug, Sam picked up his backpack while Dean pulled on his jacket. Locking the door behind them, the brothers thudded down the stairs into the lobby and outside into the gloaming light of early evening.

"Since when have we decided that we trust Dresden?" Dean said abruptly as they headed down the walk and turned the corner. "That happened awfully fast."

"It's not like we have much of a choice," Sam replied. "Besides, the local police trust him, and I get the feeling that Lt. Murphy is pretty careful about who she lets into her inner circle."

"Yeah, well, don't think for a second that he doesn't have the mojo to conjure up some nasties that would rival what we're facing." Dean twisted the car keys in the lock and jerked the Impala's driver side door open.

"I don't think he has the temperament though. I mean, he talks to fairies and makes nerdy sci-fi references." Sam said as he lowered himself into the passenger seat.

"Being a nerd doesn't automatically make him a good guy." Dean pointed out grimly.

After a thoughtful silence, Sam frowned and turned to his brother.

"You know, I can't put my finger on it, but Dresden reminds me of someone."

"In a good way or a bad way?" Dean didn't take his eyes off the road.

"I dunno. I mean, he's competent but downplays it by being a nerd, which makes him come across as kinda juvenile. He has this weird habit of showing up when he's needed and he's a total smartass."

Sam stopped abruptly and his eyes widened.

"Oh my God, he's you."

"Shut up."

The bickering continued as the brothers drove the Impala across town to Dresden's apartment. Since it was the only one with a reinforced steel door, they found it rather easily. Sam knocked and was immediately answered by what sounded like a low bark. A couple of muffled thumps later, the door swung open, revealing a barefooted wizard wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that proclaimed, _Han Shot First!_ in bold white letters. His hair stuck up at different angles and he looked a little ragged, as if he'd been up to something strenuous. Behind him sat an enormous dog. Though its ears were pricked forward, as if on alert, it merely wagged its tail in polite greeting and made no move to get up.

"Holy cow, Dresden!" Dean exclaimed. "That's no dog, that's a horse on Rogaine!"

"Welcome to the Bat Cave. That's the resident guardian, Mouse. And yes, he is my dog," Harry chuckled as he led them across the room. "Want anything to drink?"

"Beer, if you've got it," replied Dean. Sam nodded his head in agreement.

Harry padded into the kitchen, opened up an icebox, and began to rummage around.

"Is that real ice in there?" Dean murmured to Sam. His younger brother just shrugged his shoulders and looked around.

The apartment was surprisingly clean for a bachelor pad, though cluttered with books and candles. Thick rugs covered most of the floor and the walls seemed to hold more tapestries than pictures, though a lone _Star Wars_ poster held its own on one wall.

The wizard returned shortly, three of Mac's beers in hand. The barkeep would probably dig a grave just to roll in it if he knew that Harry was serving his beer cold, but the wizard didn't care. Passing them out, he plunked himself down on his couch and gestured for Sam and Dean to do the same. Mouse shuffled over and settled down at Harry's feet with a sigh. The wizard absently rubbed the dog's back with his foot

The brothers pulled up a couple of chairs and settled in. Sam plopped his backpack on the floor between his feet and leaned down to ruffle Mouse's ears. Mouse's tail thwacked against the ground happily and he scooted closer to the hunter so that he could apply more pressure. Sam cheerfully complied and Harry smiled approvingly.

"So," Dean took a swig of beer, "We've got a question about Kess."

"Not sure what she's got to do with anything," Harry frowned.

"Well, when we were trying to figure out what was wrong with her the night the inn was attacked, you made it sound like there was more to the problem than just her getting ripped up," Sam kept rubbing Mouse's head as he spoke. "We're just trying to fit all the pieces together."

"Well, you can toss that one," Harry sipped his beer. "Kess is anemic. Not enough iron in her blood. She's also got something that keeps her blood from clotting. No idea what caused that. Whatever it is, it's only made the anemia worse… but not connected to our monster as anything more than an innocent bystander who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anything else?"

"Good for now," Sam said. "What have you got on our monster?"

"Well, I used the samples of hair that I found at Allison's apartment as the focus for some thaumaturgy, specifically, a tracking spell, to try and locate the Skinwalker and its handlers."

"Any luck?"

"Yes and no. I got three different locations all around town. Two in the same apartment complex where Ms. Callahan was killed and the other in a park some ways from there. Pretty scattered, but it does narrow the field." The wizard took a draught of his beer. "Anyways, I sent some associates to go check out the park. They're pretty sure that our monster's there."

"Only 'pretty sure', huh?" Dean leaned back. "How reliable are these associates of yours?"

"Top notch. Given what the stakes are though, I told them to stay back. Just sniff around, don't engage, and run like hell if they thought they'd been spotted. They said they'd smelled something nasty before they'd gone too far in – something they'd never smelled before and they didn't want to smell again."

"Smell?" Sam looked confused.

Harry just grinned, but didn't say anything to elaborate.

"Well, if your information is reliable, I vote we check out the park tomorrow, all three of us," said Sam.

"Agreed. Take out the monster first and then go after the coven once their fangy backup is gone." Dean drained the last of his beer and set it down on the battered coffee table with a thump. "Freaky cavalry's not coming today, bitches!"

Harry idly rotated his beer bottle between the palms of his hands as he leaned forward. A frown creased the skin between his eyebrows.

"One thing's been bothering me from the start. All the covens here are pretty peaceful. Most of the bad ones were killed in the Kravos backlash or skipped town. I've been poking around for days now, and nobody new is in town and none of the regulars have done anything suspicious."

"So how do you explain the hex bags?" Dean challenged.

"Are you saying that witches are out?" Sam asked at the same time.

"I'm saying that it's looking more and more unlikely that a whole coven is in on this. A single person could have put them there, maybe as a distraction, maybe as a precaution." Harry shrugged.

The three men bandied about scenarios for the better part of an hour before moving back to the plan of hunting in the park. With the discussion firmly in the realm of strategy, Sam began rummaging in his backpack.

"That reminds me. Listens-to-Wind said that we'd need White Ash to kill a Skinwalker. These sources say we can get that by burning some Palo Santo. Have you got any, Harry? Our sources are tapped out."

The wizard thought for a moment and then nodded.

"I can get some. First thing tomorrow. Then we'll meet up at Wren's Nest and head to the park."

The brothers nodded in agreement and stood to leave. Mouse rose with them, looking up at Sam with a doggy grin. Sam chuckled and scratched him behind the ears before stepping around him. As they moved to the door, the old rotary phone in the corner let out a jangling ring. Harry answered.

"Hello?"

"_Harry, come quick."_

"Jenny? What's wrong?" Harry was already slipping on his shoes, eyes wide with alarm. Seeming to respond to his human's tone, Mouse trotted out of the room. He returned quickly, Harry's blasting rod in his mouth. He sat down in front of the wizard and waited for him to take it. Sam and Dean turned and looked at Harry in concern. He gestured for one of them to toss him his duster. Sam obliged and the wizard caught it with his free hand and began to struggle into it.

"_Kess's… thing… it's happening again. You need to get here now!"_

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Hang on!" The wizard didn't wait for her reply and slammed the phone down as he yanked his duster the rest of the way on and grabbed his keys from the table and his blasting rod from Mouse.

"What's happening?" Asked Sam, alarmed at the look on Harry's face.

"We need to get to Wren's Nest. I'll explain later," Harry said tersely as he jogged out to the street. Firing up the Beetle, he drove off, the brothers following closely in the Impala. If the look on Harry's face was anything to go by, fifteen minutes might not be soon enough.


	9. Can I Play With Madness?

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 09 – Can I Play With Madness?**

_Can I play with madness - the prophet stared at his crystal ball.  
Can I play with madness - there's no vision there at all.  
Can I play with madness - the prophet looked and he laughed at me.  
Can I play with madness - he said you're blind, too blind to see!_

_~ Iron Maiden_

**... ... ... ...**

The moon was just beginning to rise when they reached Wren's Nest. The three men jogged up the steps and Jenny greeted them at the door. Her face was pale and her mouth set in a grim line as she rubbed her hands up and down her forearms. Not quite making eye contact, she stepped back to let them in.

"Where is she?" demanded Harry.

The question came out more harshly than he had intended. Jenny flinched and gestured helplessly to the closed double doors that led to the parlor. Sam and Dean began to hurry in that direction but stopped short when the wizard grabbed the back of their shoulders. Giving his head a slight shake, he moved past them and eased the door open. Motioning for them to remain quiet, he slipped into the room.

Glancing back at Jenny, who was staring at the doors with teary eyes and her hands clasped in front of her mouth, the boys exchanged a puzzled look before filing in after Harry.

The parlor was freezing. Crouching by the open window, Kess stared out at the moon. As soon as Dean stepped into the room, she stiffened and whirled around to face them, her eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

Her usually pale skin glittered silver-white in the moonlight. Wavy, black strands had come loose from her braid and hung about her face. The flexing of her fingers dre Sam's eyes down to her hands. His lips tightened as he noticed that her fingernails had grown into claws that were sharp enough to draw blood. He nudged his brother and jerked his head towards her fingers.

Dean didn't respond to his brother's hints - he was too busy staring at Kess's eyes. No longer human, they had deepened from their usual clear blue to a vivid sapphire flecked with gold. As she stared back, Dean saw that her pupils had become cat-like and slitted and were constricting and dilating rapidly.

He shifted into a fighting stance. She snarled softly, peeling her lips back from white teeth. All of them could see that her canines had grown sharper.

Unblinking and unmoving, Kess stayed by the window. The chilly night breeze lifted the strands of hair off of her face. Her nostrils flared again.

"Can you hear them?" she whispered. "They're running."

"Easy, Sprite," Harry moved cautiously towards her.

She growled again, louder this time. Setting his blasting rod on the floor, Harry stopped and held out his hands in a placating gesture. Sam surreptitiously drew his knife and began to inch around the edge of the room to flank her. Dean grabbed his wrist.

"Wait," he whispered hoarsely.

Sam looked at his brother as if her had lost his mind, but stopped moving.

Abruptly, Kess's eyes shifted. Once again fully human, they filled with tears as she hugged herself and started trembling. Harry crossed over to her quickly and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"It's happening again, Harry. I thought it had gone away," her voice shook, muffled against his chest. "Why is it happening again?"

"Shhhh," the wizard soothed. "It'll be over in the morning. You can hold out that long, can't you, Sprite?"

Kess shuddered, but nodded her head. She defiantly wiped at the few tears that had leaked out, before abruptly clutching at the sides of her head and moaning.

"I can feel it… the songs echoing in my blood." Her eyes were wide as she looked at Harry. "Make it stop," she whispered, pleading.

She spasmed suddenly and, with a shriek, launched herself away from Harry. As she rushed across the room, her braid caught on the corner of one of the low tables and the tie snapped. Glossy black curls spilled out. With a snarl, she shoved them back, uncovering a pair of delicately pointed ears.

Sam's grip tightened on the knife. Frustrated, he glared at his brother. Dean held up his hand and eased towards Kess. She snarled and backed away, eying him warily. While her focus was on Dean, Harry quickly turned and closed the window at the same time that Sam locked the parlor doors. Kess whirled at the sound of the window latching shut.

"Let me out!" she screamed, slitted eyes wild. "Let me out!"

Gnashing her teeth, she sprang forward, but stopped short when Dean stepped into her path. Eyes narrowing, she lunged again, but he caught her by the shoulders and held her fast. She thrashed wildly, straining to get at the window. Harry picked up his blasting rod and readied his shield bracelet.

"Damn it, Kess!" Dean snarled, dodging her flailing claws.

She suddenly went limp, breathing heavily. Once he was certain that she was calm, Dean let her go. Immediately, she shrank back into the corner and began trembling again as she pressed her back against the wall, clutching the sides of her head – a terrified human once more.

"Care to tell us what the hell is going on, Dresden?" Dean snapped, breathing heavily.

"Wait til morning," Harry ran his hands over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's always over by morning. We'll explain then."

"This has happened before?" Sam glared incredulously at the wizard.

At his hostile tone, Kess jerked her head up, feline eyes staring out from behind tangled clumps of hair. She hissed and bared her teeth again, slowly raising herself off of the floor into a crouch. Dean shifted to stand in front of her and she froze.

Harry nodded slowly.

"A few times since she hit puberty," he slowly, in a soothing tone, his attention fixed on the woman crouched in the corner.

The rest of the night passed slowly. Harry guarded the window, keeping his blasting rod close at hand. Dean had pulled out a footstool and sat, forearms resting on his thighs, in between Kess and the rest of the room. Sam never took his eyes off her as he leaned against the parlor doors, knife at the ready.

Kess alternated between hissing and whimpering. Her eyes shifted constantly – human one instant, feral and cat-like the next. When human, she curled into herself and covered her head with her arms, concentrating on taking deep, even breaths. When she changed, she paced in her corner, snarling, though she didn't attempt to move past Dean again.

"You think she'd feel calmer if we cracked a window?" Sam asked quietly at one point as they watched the dark-haired girl prowl back and forth. "Y'know, cornered animal instincts and all..."

Keeping his voice pitched low so as not to startle her, Harry glanced at the hunter.

"Believe it or not, that makes things worse." Turning his attention back to Kess, he offered no other explanation.

When the moon reached its height, she let out a keening wail. The sound rose and fell, sounding eerily like singing. It reverberated through the boys' bones. Sam grimaced and Dean pressed his fingers against his temples, looking frantically at Harry. The wizard stood with his arms folded across his chest, jaw clenched. His eyes were full of sympathy and his stance was weary.

"Almost done, Sprite. Just hang in there," he murmured, gritting his teeth against the vibrations running through his skull.

As the moon sank, Kess stopped howling. The night wore on and her moments of lucidity grew more frequent, and her feral moments more subdued. Harry allowed himself a few sporadic moments of sleep and Sam relaxed his grip on his knife. Even Dean slipped into the occasional doze.

Finally, the first pale light of dawn began to color the sky. Kess spasmed and her pupils shifted rapidly for a moment. When the last star faded and the sun was just barely visible over the horizon, she slumped back against the wall and looked at Harry in relief.

"They're gone now," she rasped. "My head is my own again."

Shaking, she climbed slowly to her feet. Brushing the strands of hair – now limp and damp with sweat – from her forehead, she rolled her shoulders and neck. She stumbled as she hobbled to the sofa and Dean reached out to steady her. She stiffened ever so slightly in his grip and looked up at him.

"Why didn't you kill me?" she asked. "If I had been anything else…"

Dean just shrugged and helped her to the couch. Leaning back into the cushions, she closed her eyes. Almost instantly, she fell asleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Sam unlocked the doors and moved to stand by his brother. Both boys watched Kess for a moment more, staring at those pointed ears, the only supernatural feature that hadn't disappeared with the dawn, before turning to Harry.

"Gonna tell us what that was all about?" asked Sam.

"In a moment," replied Harry. "Lemme go get Jenny. She'll have a few details to add."

The wizard left and Sam turned to his brother.

"Why _didn't_ we kill her, Dean? I mean, did you see the teeth, the claws, her eyes?"

"Yeah, I saw, Sammy, I saw." Dean sounded tired as he ran his hand over his hair, keeping half an eye on the sleeping woman on the couch.

"She wasn't human, Dean. She could've killed us all. Besides, aren't you usually the one who wants to shoot first and ask questions later?"

Dean swung about to face his brother.

"We gave Madison a shot didn't we? And we _knew_ what she was."

Sam visibly deflated at the mention of the werewolf girl they had failed to save. Dean continued.

"Whatever was going on with her last night, she was still in there. That means she sure as hell isn't the Skinwalker and I've never seen a witch act that way."

"So we're gonna hear what Dresden and Jenny have to say?"

"What'll it hurt?"

The parlor doors swung open and Harry walked back in. Jenny followed shortly after him. She hurried over to the couch, stopping a few feet back and peering warily over the back. Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Whatever happened last night is over," said Sam coldly.

"Where were you, anyways?" snapped Dean. "I mean, your daughter's going ballistic, and you're just, what, not available?"

Jenny's lips tightened and her nostrils flared as she moved around to the front of the couch.

"Whatever prompted my daughter's reaction last night also affected other guests," she matched Sam's frosty tone and then lowered the temperature a couple more degrees. "Crowd control isn't easy, Mr. Winchester, especially when a lot of them forget not to use their claws."

"So you have Dresden and us deal with them." Dean wasn't buying her reasoning. "Kess is your family!"

The woman in question stirred and wearily cracked one eye open. Jenny patted her hand and gently brushed a strand of hair off of her daughter's temple before straightening and turning to face them all. For just a second, she looked almost defiantly at Harry. The wizard's face, usually so warm and mischievous when around her, was drawn and unyielding.

"Go on," he ordered. The tired slump of his shoulders belied any anger and softened the command.

"'Go on' what?" asked Kess, propping herself up and pushing her hair over her shoulders. She looked confusedly at her mother. "Ma?"

"It's a long story, Kess. One I should probably tell from the beginning." She straightened her shoulders and looked her daughter in the eye, "I used to be a witch."

Dean cut her off. "'Used to'? Last I checked, that wasn't something you could just turn off!"

Irritated at the interruption, Jenny's nostrils flared.

"That kind of power fades if you don't use it and I haven't used my powers in a long time. I doubt I even have the strength to cast a small spell these days." She turned back to her daughter. "I found out I had power when I was nine years old. It didn't come as a shock, since my mother was also a witch of some small ability. She called in a few favors in her coven, and I started learning just what my powers were and how to control them. I didn't have much – certainly not enough to be noticed by the White Council –"

"What's a White Council?" It was Sam who interrupted this time.

"We don't talk about it," snapped Harry, scowling.

"They really don't," Jenny nodded in confirmation, looking sheepish at her slip. "Anyways, one day, when I was twenty-four, I came across a summoning spell that would call the King of the Faeries. It was too good to pass up and I wanted to prove myself, so I made my circle, laid out the ingredients, and said the words."

"I think I see where this is heading," murmured Dean to Sam. Sam nodded.

"The creature that came across the Veil was a King of Faeries to be sure, but not the one I thought I was summoning." Jenny looked rather forlornly at them all. "I had summoned the Erlking – Lord of the Underground and Master of the Wild Hunt."

* * *

**Ending Author's Note:** _This is one of those story elements that came before the release of "Dead Beat". I did try to integrate that bit of canon with my story - bear with me!_


	10. Run Like Hell

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 10 –** **Run Like Hell**

_With your empty smile  
__And your hungry heart  
__Feel the bile rising from your guilty past  
__...  
__You better run_

_~Pink Floyd_

**_... ... ... ..._**

_His face was covered by a helmet that had huge antlers on either side and nearly scraped the ceiling. He was dressed all in brown and green leather and carried an ivory horn. _

_I was nearly unconscious from the effort of such a summoning, my will was severely weakened, and my puny circle never stood a chance of holding him. He burst free and the shockwaves from the backlash threw me against the wall. I thought he would kill me for daring to call on him, but he just grinned and crossed the broken circle. Once he was free, he let out a rumbling laugh and blew several blasts on his horn._

_A great wind rushed through the room and hundreds of glowing figures rushed by. All of them laughed wildly, showing pointed teeth and red, cat-like eyes._

"_We hunt!" cried the Erlking, and they all sped off, scattering furniture and debris in their wake._

_I'd unleashed the Wild Hunt on my hometown. __I'll remember that night for as long as I live as I heard __terrified screaming and the sound of shattering glass as the Faefolk swept through the streets, hunting anything that moved, laughing as they rode._

_And killed._

_I smiled wearily as the sun rose because I knew the Erlking would be forced back to the Nevernever once the sun came up and I would be able to help any survivors._

_To my shock, the Hunt returned to my house. Most of them dissipated as soon as they came near the remains of the circle, but the Erlking stayed. He stared at me for the longest time – a little witch cowering in the corner under shattered furniture and scattered books. It seemed forever before he stooped down and picked me up_.

_The world spun and blurred for a moment and when I opened my eyes I wasn't in my destroyed living room any more._

_He set me down on a cold floor in the middle of a large hall and took his helmet off. Tucking it under his arm, he strode up to the dais was directly in front of us and sat down on a large throne made of horns and draped in hides. He stared at me. Like all the Fae, his eyes had slitted pupils and were an especially vivid green. His dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his features were lightly asymmetrical, but that only gave him a rather roguish charm instead of making him ugly. It was the kind of face that, even though it wasn't handsome, you could stare at for a long time._

"_Thou hast courage to summon one such as I," he mused. "That pleases me."_

_I wanted to tell him that I didn't care if I pleased him or not, but I wanted to stay alive more, so I stayed quiet. He leaned back and let out a sharp whistle. Two huge black dogs trotted in and made themselves comfortable at the foot of his throne. Two Faerie creatures followed and bowed to him. I learned later that they were goblins. Looking at their tattered gowns, I assumed they were women, but their features were so lumpy and lopsided that I really couldn't tell. _

"_Take her to the suite of rooms by the gardens," he commanded._

_The women bowed again, peering at me from between long dreadlocks, and took me by the arm to lead me away. I flinched as their knobby fingers wrapped around my upper arms. We had just reached the doorway when he ordered us to stop._

"_What is thy name, witchling?"_

"_Jenny."_

_He nodded briefly, absently scratching one of the hounds behind its ears. _

_The goblin women marched me down the hallway and through passages until we reached a set of rooms. They were beautiful – all silvery white wood and gauzy curtains. A deep pool surrounded by bright flowers served as a bath in one room, and the other room had a huge wardrobe filled with rich dresses, a dressing table and mirror, and a canopy bed. Next to the bed was an oak door and the far wall, a series of arched openings led out to a veranda and huge garden._

"_Whose room is this?" I asked, fearing the answer._

"_Yours," answered one of them, "for as long as our Master chooses to keep you."_

_With that, they left me. I crept through the room, trying to make sense of everything. The first thing I investigated was the door by the bed, but it was locked from the other side. Wary, I explored the rest of the suite. I don't know how long I spent looking around, but no one came back for me. Finally, exhausted, I collapsed on the bed and went to sleep._

_The next morning, two goblins woke me. I was pretty sure that they were different from the ones that brought me here, but __their features were blurred and distorted and __they were frighteningly similar in their mismatchedness._

_They explained that the Erlking had summoned me for breakfast and they were there to help me get ready. Before I could protest, they had pinched and prodded me out of bed, laced me up in one of those beautiful gowns with their eerily nimble fingers, and were pushing me out the door._

_Breakfast started out as a quiet affair. I was too nervous to talk and he didn't seem to want to make conversation. Finally though, I grew tired of the silence._

"_How long will I be kept here?" I asked._

_He looked up from his breakfast with a frown._

"_Kept?" His voice rumbled through the room. "Thou speakest as if thou wast a prisoner here."_

"_Aren't I?"_

"_Thou insultest my hospitality by calling thyself such, when in fact, thou hast been treated as a guest. __" His voice hardened. "Wert thou not a woman and a stranger to our customs, I would slay thee in thy place for that." _

"_How is a simple question reason to kill me?" I snapped, not taking kindly to his threat._

"_The bond between guest and host is sacred to my people. If either were to break that bond, the other would be well within his rights to demand satisfaction in blood for the breach – as a matter of honor. Is there no such regard for hospitality in thy world?" he asked severely._

"_When we invite friends over, of course we try to be good hosts, but we don't kill our guests if they complain about the food."_

_He shook his head and returned his attention to his meal. I could tell from the stiff set of his shoulders that I had offended him. Sighing, I set my spoon down. It would do me no good to antagonize a being that could kill me where I sat._

"_I'm sorry for my insult. I didn't mean to be rude."_

_I don't think he expected me to have the manners to apologize. A small smile softened his features as he nodded his head to me._

"_I will accept thy apology, witchling," he paused a moment and continued slowly, "and try, in the future, to remember your inexperience in the dealings of our kind."_

_He ignored me for the rest of the meal. I was torn between being irritated at his backhanded apology and just grateful not to be the focus for his attention anymore._

_I atewith the Erlking every evening after that, though not by my own will. He instructed me on the etiquette of the Nevernever. When I commented on the fact that he was lecturing me instead of talking with me, he explained that not all Fae would tolerate my ignorance, and that many would kill me for an accidental insult before finding out my intentions. After that, I made a greater effort to ask questions when I didn't understand, instead of just smiling and nodding._

_Once I realized that the goblins would not harm their master's guest, I began to explore the castle more freely. After a few weeks, the Erlking found me in his library and, since not all the books were in English, __we had a whole new set of lessons__. He began teaching me that evening __and __before long, I found that I preferred his company to anyone else's. Within a few weeks, I had a basic grasp of all the languages in his library. __I thought I was just learning exceptionally quickly, but one of the maids let it slip that he was using his magic to help me get the hang of it all more easily than I could have otherwise. _

_After several months had passed, he asked me if I would like to stay in the Nevernever forever. I answered yes and he __told me to call him Arawn, even though that was only one of his names. It fit best in that realm, he explained. Other names were better suited for different parts of his life. __He __took me as a consort a few weeks later and that was when I discovered that the oak door in my room connected to his suite. I didn't know whether to be flattered or frightened, but I was too enamored of him to really care._

_Within a year, Kess was born. She was a good baby and her father doted on her, always holding her and talking to her. I thought it was wonderful, and lived in a happy daze for a while, basking in his attention and watching my baby girl grow._

_One day, Arawn was called away to help the Winter Queen in a war. I was distraught at his leaving, but he promised he would return soon. At first, I could hardly get out of bed, I was so lost without him, but as the days went by, I grew stronger. It felt like a fog was slowly lifting from my mind and body._

_I noticed that Kess, usually so docile, was growing more lively by the day. It went beyond the squirminess of a toddler, but was like watching her wake up. She had always been the picture of contentment, but it seemed to me that she was now noticing the world around her for the first time. __I didn't have time to try to sort out these changes in the two of us, because Arawn returned shortly after they began. I was so happy to be reunited with him that everything else was driven out of my mind and I returned to that fogged bliss that I had been living in before he left._

_Then, one night, around Kess's third birthday, I heard a noise coming from her nursery. Worried, I slipped out of bed and went to find out what it was that I had heard. __I found Arawn leaning over her cradle. Kess was whimpering in her sleep so, at first, I thought he was soothing her because his hand rested above her head. But then I saw that little motes of light were floating from my daughter to her father. As he absorbed them, he rubbed her temples and made shushing noises. She quieted instantly and went completely still. __Having lived in the Erlking's court for some time now, I recognized what he was doing. _

_He was draining my daughter of her magic and adding that power to his own._

_He was only draining small amounts from her, like little sips instead of sucking the cup dry, but it was still weakening her. Being sure to stay silent, I withdrew and crept back to bed, a horrible suspicion growing in the back of my mind._

_The next day, I found an excuse to leave his side and went back to my suite. I tried one of the simple spells that I used to cast and found that I could barely muster the strength to do it. _

_He'd been draining my magic too. The contented fog that I'd been living in was his way of ensuring that I never noticed his magic inside my head, just like when he'd taught me to read when he first ensnared me. _

_I was so angry that it was impossible for that magic-induced stupor to take me over again, although I could always feel it on the edges of my mind._

_I began looking for ways to escape. I pretended to be as content as always, but I was frantic to leave. I scoured the library for a full year and a half, searching for a spell or portal that would take me back to the human world._

_Finally, I stumbled across the information I needed. In one of the oldest tomes, there was a blood-spell that could catapult me out of the Nevernever and back into my own. It would require every last drop of power I had left to me, but we would be free._

_I gathered what I needed over the course of a few days, and on a night when the Erlking chose not to come to my rooms, I grabbed Kess and prepared the spell. The final step after mixing the ingredients was to pour some of my own blood over them and say the incantation. Because I had so little magic left, I was barely able to open the portal. Without looking back, I jumped through, but was too weak from blood loss to control where it was taking us. _

_We ended up in a large field and I had no idea where to go. I was so exhausted from the casting that I passed out along the dirt road where we came out._

**... ... ... ...**

Jenny's story took most of the morning to tell. Harry had set down his blasting rod and taken a seat while Sam stowed his knife and sat across from him. Dean seated himself near Kess. Once the story gained momentum, everyone listened patiently, not daring to interrupt, lest she lose her nerve and not finish.

"It was a miracle no one took Kess from me while I was unconscious." Jenny said as she set out the sandwiches and drinks that Hob had brought in while she'd been talking. "We wandered that rural area for several days as I looked for work and a place to stay in a tiny town. I was weak from the blood loss and both Kess and I were suffering the initial lethargy that came with the absence of Arawn's presence."

Harry gently placed a hand on her shoulder as she finished speaking.

"They were starving when they came to the farm," the wizard said, taking a bite of his food. "My mentor felt bad for them, so he brought them inside for a meal."

**... ... ... ...**

_I was clearing the dinner dishes when Ebenezer and I heard a scuffling from outside._

"_Rats again?" I asked, cocking my head to listen._

_My grey-haired guardian shook his head as he pushed himself out of his chair. Grabbing his staff that was leaning against the wall, he narrowed his eyes._

"_Sounds too big, Hoss."_

_He crossed the small room and opened the kitchen door, spilling yellow light across the back porch into the night. Leaning his head out, he looked around. I followed behind him and stepped outside to get a better view. Ebenezer thumped me on the back of the head._

"_Always too quick to act. Throw up your wards, boy! Just 'cuz it sounds like a possum or raccoon doesn't guarantee that it ain't a nasty."_

_The corner of my mouth pulled down in annoyance, but I obeyed. Just then, a movement under the awning caught my eye._

_A woman huddled up against the wall of the house in the patch of light made by the kitchen window, clutching what looked like a bundle of rags against her chest. It was a clear night, but cold, and I could see her shivering even from the distance that separated us._

"_Hey!" I called._

_She jumped at the sound of my voice, jerking her head up. Wide, frightened eyes dominated her face. Without a word, she scrambled backwards and began to run._

"_Come on, Hoss," my mentor started down the steps. "It's too cold for her to stay out here."_

"_What if she's a nasty?" I asked, adolescent sarcasm fully intact and operational._

"_Would she run?" Ebenezer shook his head at the folly of youth._

"_What if she's a lure?" I asked more seriously this time._

_That caused him to pause for the slightest second before continuing into the yard._

"_We'll adapt. You coming?"_

_I followed him into the dark yard. A ball of light hovered at the tip of his staff – wizard's flashlight. It bobbed with his gait and lit a good-sized circle around him. Pretty soon, we caught up with the woman. She froze, much like a deer in the preverbal headlights, and I had to chuckle at the similarity between the two circumstances, though I was amazed she didn't have more of a reaction to the glowing light on a stick._

"_You look like you need a hot meal." Ebenezer called out._

_The woman looked at us suspiciously. Ebenezer smiled disarmingly._

"_Homemade chili and cornbread. The boy and I have already eaten, but we don't mind sharing. And if you need a place to stay for the night, we have a warm bed you're welcome to."_

_I could see that she desperately wanted both those things, but was probably remembering all those stories that you hear about what happens to people who accept help from strange country-folk at night. _

"_Mama, I'm cold," whimpered a small voice._

_Ebenezer and I both froze. The bundle of rags turned out to be a kid, no more than four or five years old. That plea made up the woman's mind and she nodded hesitantly and took a step closer. As a group we all trooped back to the warm kitchen. Ebenezer seemed to be the only one who was comfortable with the situation. The woman and I eyed each other as she stepped in, tightening her grip on her child's hand._

She eats like someone who hasn't tasted food in years_, I thought to myself as I watched the woman all but inhale the food I had set in front of her. Up close, she was a small thing and far too skinny. I couldn't tell what color her hair was under the layers of grime, but it was obvious by the flushed cheeks beneath the dirt that she was running a fever._

_The toddler she was holding didn't move much. The kid's eyes were dull – I was willing to bet a fever was setting in there too._

"_What's the young one's name?" Ebenezer asked from his place at the sink where he was rinsing dishes._

"_She's called Kestrel," the woman answered, mumbling around her mouthful._

"_Pretty name." I said, trying to be friendly._

_The little girl whimpered until her mom gave her some of the milk I had brought out. That quieted her for the rest of the meal and she lapsed back into her listless stupor. Once the woman finished, she finally worked up the nerve to look at me, though not in the eyes. I was used to that, but only from people who knew about and understood the magical community. Since this woman couldn't know we were part of that community, I began to wonder what was up._

_Ebenezer finished the dishes and joined us at the table. He looked kindly at the woman as he pulled out a chair._

"_How'd you end up here, Miss…?" _

"_My name is Jenny. My daughter and I had to leave our home in a hurry. We got lost…"_

_Her voice trailed off and her eyes began to fill with tears. I gave a mental groan; I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. I knew Ebenezer wouldn't leave them out in the streets, especially seeing what bad shape the kid was in._

_Suddenly, Kestrel began to cry – not the fussy whine that most kids her age use when they aren't getting attention, but the gut-wrenching sobbing that indicates something is really wrong. Jenny began to rub her back and make soothing noises, but I could see how worried she was. The kid continued to cry until, with a rippling convulsion, she threw up all over the table. _

_Jenny mumbled an embarrassed apology and started to stand, placing Kestrel in my lap. Ebenezer gently cut her off and brought over some towels. Jenny all but snatched them and began mopping up the mess. Kestrel sniffled and coughed. _Please don't barf. Don't barf,_ I mentally chanted. _

_Then I noticed that the curdled milk on the table was flecked with spots of blood. _

_That couldn't be good. _

_When I leaned forward to get a closer look, the toddler started crying again. _

"_I hurt, Mama."_

"_I know, Baby." We could hear the anguish in her voice._

"_Trade you," I said, trying to mask my concern with a smile._

_She let out a nervous laugh and nodded, setting the towels down and reaching to take her child out of my lap. As I mopped up the mess, I kept an eye on the baby._

"_Is she all right?" I asked._

"_The food doesn't agree with her." Jenny replied. "She hasn't been able to keep anything down since we got here." _

"_Hmm." Ebenezer frowned. _

What dots are he connecting that I'm not_, I wondered. Looking frantic now, Jenny stood and began backing away from our table towards the door._

"_Now, Jenny," Ebenezer's voice was meant to soothe, but she had bolted._

"_Hell," I muttered._

_I left the filthy towels on the table and took off after them. It was fairly easy to catch her – I have a long stride and even then I was in pretty good shape._

_She was just rounding the corner by the barn when Ebenezer and I caught them._

"_You left some things out, Jenny," I called as he came up behind me._

_She turned and looked at us with hunted eyes. Her bottom lip began to tremble. My heart went out to her again as I took in how utterly exhausted and frightened she looked._

"_Look," I said gently, palms spread wide to show we meant no harm, "We want to help you, and I'm pretty sure we can, but only if you let us."_

_Jenny wavered, obviously wanting help, but not knowing if she could trust us. Fair enough. I wasn't certain we could trust her either. Finally, her shoulders slumped and she timidly took a few steps towards us, cradling her child close to her chest._


	11. My Eyes Have Seen You

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 11 – My Eyes Have Seen You**

_My eyes have seen you  
__Free from disguise_

_ ~ The Doors_

**_... ... ... ..._**

By the time the wizard's part of the story was done, lunchtime had come and gone. At one point, a female Brownie - Dean could only assume that she was Tillie - had come in and cleared their dishes, leaving a tray with cups and steaming pots of tea and coffee to replace them. Kess insisted on pouring the drinks, despite the fact that her wrists and hands shook as she did so. Serving herself last, she quietly picked up a small glass vial unobtrusively hidden on the tray and tapped a few drops into her cup. She closed her eyes and sighed as she sipped.

"Jenny asked if we believed in magic," Harry smiled tiredly. "I laughed. I probably shouldn't have, but Ebenezer convinced her to come inside anyways."

"They spent the next few weeks tending to Kess and me. It took a few months for them to develop the potion that allows Kess to digest human food, but once they did, her health improved pretty rapidly, though we still have to be careful." Jenny said as Harry took a sip of water. "Once I was strong enough, they helped me find work, and later, when we had met again in Chicago, Harry helped me establish Wren's Nest.

Sam and Dean said nothing for a long while, as they pondered what Dresden and Jenny had told them. Kess fiddled silently with the rim of her cup. She suddenly glared up at her mother.

"Why didn't you tell me my father was the Erlking?"

"I would have told you when you needed to know," Jenny started, but Kess cut her off.

"The first time I had one of these episodes was nine years ago, Mom. I'm pretty sure I needed to know then." The dry tone was belied by the dangerous glitter in her tired eyes.

"I was afraid, Kess. I didn't want to risk your father finding us."

"Empty night, Ma!" Kess sat up with a snarl, setting her cup on the table. "When are you going to stop treating me like I'm twelve and start letting me be an adult? I am not an idiot child with daddy-issues. I never was. If you had told me the truth and told me to leave it alone, I would have. I _always_ obeyed when it came to dealing with the Nevernever. God knows I saw plenty of instances of what happened when people weren't careful. "

"I'm sorry. I didn't think your knowing would help anything." Jenny began to wring her hands as she looked pleadingly at her daughter.

"I would have known that I wasn't going crazy and that I wasn't turning into some monster that Harry would have to put down. That what I was feeling was probably related to… to _him_." Unwilling to name the Fae Lord who sired her, she whirled on Harry. "It's the Hunt, isn't it? That's what I'm feeling. It's whenever he goes on a Wild Hunt."

Harry nodded, looking tired and haunted. "That's what I think, Sprite." His eyes narrowed. "How do you know about the Hunt, anyways?"

Kess arched an eyebrow and gestured to the many filled bookcases that lined the room.

"I read."

Her eyes widened suddenly and she stiffened.

"If I was four, almost five when we arrived on the farm," she spoke very slowly, forehead creasing in a frown, "why don't I remember anything about living in the Nevernever?"

Jenny looked away. Harry just barely shook his head and raised his shoulders in a small shrug. Eyes cold, Kess pushed herself off the couch and started for the door.

"I'm afraid I had a rough night and need to rest for a bit," she said woodenly. "Excuse me, please." Her voice faltered ever so slightly on the last few syllables.

She stumbled a bit as she exited. As she pulled herself up the stairs, Jenny rushed to help her, shutting the parlor doors as she left. The wood muffled Kess' angry tones as they overrode Jenny's desperate ones. As soon as the doors clicked shut, the brothers fixed identical gazes on Harry.

The wizard moved towards a chair. They'd been remarkably patient during Jenny's story, he'd give them that, but he doubted that they'd afford him the same courtesy.

"All right, Dresden. We've got some questions for you."

Harry sighed. _Let the interrogation begin. _He lowered himself wearily onto the couch that Kess had just vacated and laid his blasting rod across his knees. Sam waited patiently for the wizard to settle comfortably while Dean just leaned back against a side table, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Ask away. I don't promise to answer though."

"Fine. What exactly is Kess? I mean, okay, half-fae, we get that. But what does that mean?"

"We call people in her predicament 'Changelings'. At some point, she'll have to choose to be completely human or completely Fae. Beyond that though, we have no idea. So far, it's been one long demonstration of all the ways mixing Fae and human genes can go wrong. You got to witness last night's bout of mental trauma first hand, and thanks to her mixed heritage, she's allergic to iron, which has led to various other issues."

"Like the anemia and the welts," Sam supplied.

Harry narrowed his eyes. _What welts? _He made a mental note to pry that particular bit of information out of his friend after she had rested. He leaned back in the couch and mulled over Sam's question.

"Yeah. Means she can't digest human food either, since pretty much everything in our world has got some trace bit of iron in it. Jenny mentioned that Ebenezer and I concocted a potion to help with that though, if you'll remember."

"Has the mixed blood had _any_ perks?"

"Above average hearing, sight, and smell. Better reflexes than most and she gets a lot stronger when she's in the throes of a Hunt, but that's about it. Not that we've really given her the chance to field test anything when she isn't."

"But no spells? Even accidental ones?" Sam pressed.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he considered the implications of this particular line of questions. Dean, he noticed, had been surprisingly quite throughout the whole conversation, but he had jerked to attention when Sam mentioned magic.

"None that we've seen," Harry answered in a clipped tone.

"No signs she's strong enough to summon anything, especially when she's caught up in whatever happened last night?"

The runes on Harry's blasting rod flared red as the wizard half-rose from his seat, his face dark and unreadable.

"Of course she didn't summon the Skinwalker, Sammy. Don't be stupid."

Dean's unexpected contribution stopped Harry mid-movement. The runes' light died and the wizard sat back down with narrowed eyes, surprised at the conviction in the hunter's tone. Sam was no less shocked and turned to face his brother, his face incredulous. Seeing their twin looks of astonishment, Dean gave a slight shrug and his eyes flicked to the left.

"She doesn't have it in her," he mumbled.

"How do you know that, Dean?" Sam snapped, frustrated by his brother's uncharacteristic lack of support.

"Yeah, Dean. How _do_ you know?" Harry leaned forward and stared at him intently. Not that he wanted to argue with the guy who was protesting Kess's innocence, but the support was coming from a completely unexpected corner. Something wasn't right.

"Just do. I can read people. She's not our girl."

"No offense, dude," Harry repositioned his blasting rod across his lap, "but you've been in my town for all of four days. There is no way you know her well enough to know that." Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off. "So you can read people. Okay. What'd you see that left you so sure of her character?" The wizard frowned as a thought struck. "What did you see, Dean?"

Dean shrugged and looked directly at Harry, who carefully avoided meeting his eyes. Sam looked back and forth between Harry and his brother. Dean never backed down from a good argument but Sam recognized the set of his shoulders. Dean only looked that deliberately relaxed when he was hiding something.

Apparently, Harry recognized that particular stance as well, because he kept pressing the subject.

"Come on, man, you had to have seen something. No one is that sure of anything on a hunch."

Dean glared and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Look, I don't know what I saw," he snapped. "Just bright blue eyes with gold in them and slitted pupils," he paused, searching for an appropriate image to use. "You know those crystal vases? The kind rich people have? It was like that. They're smooth and strong, but you hit them just right and they'll shatter. Then there was this voice all around everything, whispering."

Sam and Harry listened as Dean paced the room and tried to describe something he himself didn't understand. Sam wore a pretty consistent look of confusion throughout his brother's agitated speech, but Harry was looking more and more flabbergasted by the whole thing. When Dean mentioned a voice, the wizard's head jerked up to stare at the hunter.

"What did the voice say?" Harry's own voice was carefully neutral.

Dean swung around to face him and shook his head.

"Some gibberish word. It said 'I am Lree.' Then it just kept repeating that last word. You have any idea what it means?"

At the word, 'Lree', Harry blanched. Crossing over to Dean quickly, he grabbed the hunter's arm and peered intently at him.

"You never say that word in public again, you understand me? You keep it to yourself. Don't even say it around me or your brother or your closest friends." The wizard's voice was rough and urgent, a tone that left no room for argument.

Conditioned to obey that tone from childhood, Dean just nodded, mouth tight.

"Why?" Sam asked from his forgotten seat by the couch.

"Doesn't matter why," growled Harry, pulling away from Dean.

"Damn right, it matters," Dean wasn't quite yelling at this point. "What the hell is going on?"

"Sam, go get Kess," Harry ordered, ignoring Dean's question.

Sam crossed his arms and glared at Harry. The wizard matched him glare for glare. Since they were pretty close in height and weight, the hunter's hostility wasn't intimidating. Harry squared his shoulders and loomed a little more, putting some wizardly mystery and temper behind his glower.

"I don't often give orders, Hunter Boy, but when I do, they're important. Go get Kess. Now."

Uncrossing his arms, Sam huffed out a breath, but he went, shooting Dean a look as he left. Once the door had shut and Harry heard his footsteps thudding up the stairs, the wizard turned back to Dean and silenced him with a look.

"What you just described is a Soulgaze," he began.

Dean cut him off with a question.

"You used that word before. You said you Soulgazed Jenny. What's a Soulgaze?"

"Pretty much, you lock eyes with someone and see their soul. You know, a gaze that reveals the soul? A Soul-Gaze?"

Dean glared at the sarcasm, but said nothing. Harry merely shrugged.

"My ability to snark in even the most dire of situations is legendary. Habit I guess. Anyways, sounds to me like you locked eyes with her at some point and got sucked into one. Until now, I'd have said that only witches and wizards could do that. That's why we've all been avoiding looking you in the eye – standard procedure within the magical community."

"But Kess isn't a witch."

"No, but her mom is, and she's half-fae. Means she's got a shit-ton of magic _and_ a human soul. Fae don't usually have those, so we don't worry about Soulgazing them. No soul to suck us in. Kess is a different story though."

"What's that got to do with 'Lree'?" Dean was starting to lose patience with Dresden's cryptic answers.

"I told you not to say that out loud," the wizard hissed through clenched teeth. He glanced at the closed doors. "All creatures have a True Name. You know what it is, you control them. For humans, saying our full names gives other people power over us if they know how to use it. Fae are different. They keep their real names hidden away. Learning them is hard enough when they're small Fae and next to impossible when they're High Sidhe."

"Are you saying that I just heard Kess's True Name or whatever?" Dean frowned.

"Some people who've tried to dig into the mysteries of the Fae figure that they have a sort of equivalent to a Soulgaze that allows them to trade True Names," Harry continued as if he hadn't heard Dean's interjection. "It'd form a bond for sure, but nobody knows if that's actually true. They won't tell us and we can't Soulgaze pure Fae to find out."

"You're as bad as she is about giving straight answers. You know that, right, Merlin?"

"The Merlin is a dick. I'm way easier to deal with."

The door opened and Sam returned, his arm around Kess's waist as she leaned heavily against his side. Dean glared at the two of them.

"She was curled in her bed with her hands over her ears when Jenny took me to her room," Sam said with a confused frown at his brother's hostility. "And just now, coming down the stairs, she went white as a sheet and about fell over."

The tall hunter carefully deposited her on the couch and backed away. She looked around at the three men with a tired sigh.

"First, you demand that I rest, and when I finally go do it, you drag me back downstairs. What's so important?"

"Did you look Hot Shot here in the eyes?" Asked Harry, cutting straight to the point. His young friend really did look like Hell had had a good go at her and then spat her back out. He wanted to let her rest as soon as possible.

"Not willingly," she mumbled, blushing and looking very much like a sullen teenager, despite the fact she had left those years behind her nearly half a decade ago.

"Did anything special happen when you two locked eyes?"

"Well," Kess hesitated. "His eyes are green."

"Kess," Harry's warning growl let her know that he was too tired to deal with anything other than the unembellished truth. She sighed again, shoulders slumping.

"It was like looking down a stone well. The stones were dry and beaten up at the top and they crumbled in the wind, but down in the darkness, where the water was, they were smooth and cool and strong still." She turned her gaze on the hunter. "Does that sound like you, Dean Winchester?"

At the pronunciation of his Name, Dean twitched and his eyes widened. Harry's mouth thinned as he observed the two of them.

"Well, that pretty much confirms it. Now you two need to stop throwing each other's Names about or else someone'll get hurt." Harry fiddled with his shield bracelet absentmindedly and sighed. "This is a right mess."

"So we know each other's True Names, so what?" Asked Dean. "We just don't say 'em and we're all good to go. Simple."

From the couch, Kess nodded her agreement as she rested her cheek against the armrest. Harry shook his head.

"I think what happened to the two of you is closer to the Fae version of a Soulgaze than the human one. I believe I mentioned something about a pretty strong bond that forms between the two who go through it?"

Kess sat up slowly, pushing her hair behind her ears. Her eyes narrowed in an instinctive comprehension and she felt an angry flush make its way into her pale cheeks.

"What are you saying, Harry? That he and I are stuck with each other? Bound in some sort of magical 'til death do us part' sort of way?" Her eyes flashed bright blue with temper and flecks of gold grew in the centers, but Harry was relieved to see that they remained human. "Well, you can just forget it! He won't use my Name again even if I have to get a magical geas put on him to ensure it!" The whiplash of temper gave her voice bite.

"You think I'm okay with this?" Dean's voice matched hers. "I probably want it less than you do, so don't get pissy with me. It's not like it's my fault."

"You're the one who forced me to make eye-contact with you," her voice took on a shrill edge.

Overwhelmed by it all, she flopped back on the couch and her bottom lip began to wobble. Blinking back angry tears, she pointed to the parlor doors.

"Out." Her voice cracked. "I'm not taking those stairs again and I need to sleep."

She hugged a pillow to herself and curled up on her side, away from them. Harry sighed and ran his hand over his hair. Awkwardly, he reached out and patted Kess's shoulder.

"It'll be all right, Sprite. We'll figure something out."

The changeling woman nodded, but didn't turn to face them. With a final sigh, Harry prodded the hunters in the shoulders, closing the doors on Kess's huddled form as he herded them out into the foyer.


	12. Shadow of the Wind

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 12 – Shadow of the Wind**

_Still you chase what you can't see  
__Like death and pain and sin  
__And the shadow of the wind  
__The shadow of the wind_

_ ~Black Sabbath_

**... ... ... ...**

It wasn't a scream that woke Dean just past midnight, but the softest of scratching noises underneath the second-story window. His eyes flicked open and, instantly alert, he pulled the gun from under his pillow and crept over to Sam's bed.

"Sammy," he whispered. "Hey, Sammy, wake up." His brother was slow to respond, so he poked him in the ribs none too gently. "Sammy, wake the hell up." Sam sat up with a grunt.

Sam scowled at him blearily while pulling on a shirt, but the glare quickly faded when Dean put his fingers to his lips and jerked his head towards the window. _Listen_, he mouthed. Sam nodded grimly, as he too heard the scratches. Tucking his own gun into the waistband of his sweatpants and grabbing his knife, he moved slowly to the door, beckoning for Dean to do the same. Dean glanced out the window one last time, noting that the dark shape that hovered by the first story windows was moving quickly towards the porch and front door.

The brothers opened the door and padded barefoot down the hall, blending into the shadows in their steel gray sweatpants and dark t-shirts. A door close to the stairs opened and Harry emerged, blasting rod in hand and a faint glow emanating from his bracelet. The brothers lowered their weapons slightly and jogged silently over to him, hissing his name to get his attention. He whirled, raising the arm that wore the shield bracelet to chest height. Upon recognizing Sam and Dean, he lowered his arm again and nodded towards the stairs.

The scratching sounds were more muffled from the upstairs hallway, but all three men could tell that they had become more insistent. They began a slow decent down the stairs, straining to catch a glimpse of what lurked outside the lobby windows. Cool moonlight streamed in from the decorative skylights that lined the lobby ceiling, coating the world in muted shades of blue, purple, and silver.

A terrific crash shook the house, causing the windows to rattle and the front door to vibrate. Outside, a dark blur raced across their field of vision, obscuring the moonlight. Scratching again, louder and more insistent, resonated through the house. Dean suddenly looked alarmed, almost panicked.

"Where're Jenny and Kess?" He demanded hoarsely.

"Upstairs in their rooms," Harry whispered with a frown. "Third floor. They'll be safe there—"

Dean was already gone, taking the stairs three at a time as he raced back the way they came, gun at the ready.

"Dean, no," Sam hissed as loudly as he dared at his brother's retreating back. "Kess said it couldn't get past the threshold, remember?"

Too late. With an exasperated growl, Sam turned to Harry and shrugged – nothing they could do about Dean's erratic behavior now. The two men looked grim as they continued down the stairs. Sam shifted his knife to his left hand and drew his gun. Harry nodded approvingly.

"Wish I'd brought mine," he whispered. "Left in too much of a hurry last night."

Sam nodded, not bothering to turn and look at Harry, as he took the last step into the lobby. The scratching grew quieter as the skinwalker moved towards the windows and walls of the parlor. Another thump shook the house, accompanied by the metallic shrieks of claws scraping against glass. Whipping his head around towards the sound, Sam motioned for Harry to guard the stairs while he moved into the parlor. He slowly moved in, easing his weight onto each foot in an attempt to move as silently as possible. Keeping his gun at the ready, he gently brushed the curtains back to peer surreptitiously out the window.

A clawed hand smacked into the glass inches from his face. Sam jerked back with a yell as a snarling, hairy face pressed itself to the window. Almost an animal's, definitely not human, that face was enough to inspire fear in even the bravest of souls. It twisted its lips away from its teeth as it slavered against the glass. Sam could hear the gutteral snarls and the wet snaps as it gnashed its teeth, its hot breath steaming against the chilled windowpane.

Then, just as abruptly as it appeared, it vanished. Within seconds, another thud echoed through the house, seemingly coming from upstairs. For a moment, Sam thought he heard his brother holler from far away. He turned to run up the stairs, but his movements had become heavy. The air felt thick and his legs leaden.

A dark shadow flashed past the window. Just a few feet away, the front door rattled and shook, battered from the outside as the skinwalker reined furious blows upon it.

And then all was still. The air returned to normal

Sucking in air, Sam motioned for Harry to come over to him. The wizard looked shaken and for once had no snarky remark to make about the situation. His mouth was compressed to a thin, white line and his jaw was clenched.

"It's coming back," Sam breathed, hardly daring to raise his voice to a full whisper.

Harry nodded once – a brief sharp movement. It was an acknowledgement only, since there was no need to confirm what both of them already knew to be true. Sam swallowed and took a deep breath.

"You stand by the door," he said, gesturing. "I'll stand directly in front of it. When I yell, yank it open and I'll open up on the sucker with both barrels."

"Just one problem," Harry said grimly. "You've got no White Ash. We were supposed to deal with that today."

"We got sidetracked," Sam nodded, his voice tinged now with the beginnings of desperation. "But these bullets are silver. May not kill it, but they should hurt and, I dunno, at least drive it away for the night. Then we get White Ash in the morning and finish the job while it's injured."

"Best plan we got." The wizard looked less than thrilled, but he took up his post by the door. The runes on his blasting rod glowed red in his hand and a cool light surrounded his shield bracelet.

Sam backed up a few paces and aimed his gun at the front door. Shaking his head to flip his hair out of his eyes, he shifted his feet into a firmer stance and huffed out a tense breath.

He didn't have to wait long. Without warning, the front door nearly buckled under the impact of a body hurling itself against it from the outside. Sam roared and Harry yanked the door open, ducking out of the way of Sam's gun.

The creature was a good foot taller than Sam, with bony arms that reached past its knees. Fearsome claws sprouted from its tufted fingers. Fangs glistened with saliva as it screamed at the sight of the hunter. Its eyes glowed like coals out of its pale, hairy face.

"_Forzare!_" Harry hollered.

The skinwalker stumbled back slightly, not enough for it to fall, but enough so that it was too off-balance to defend itself.

Mouth set in a determined line, Sam advanced, firing shot after shot. He managed to get four off before his gun jammed. Throwing the useless weapon aside, he raised his silver knife.

The skinwalker recoiled from the first bullet and howled in pain. The moonlight glinted off of the wicked curve of Sam's blade, causing the creature to back away. With a final hate-filled glare, it shrieked and broke into a shambling run down the walkway. Before Sam or Harry could follow, it had fled, disappearing into the night.

Harry joined Sam at the door.

"Leaving so soon?" The wizard jeered, panting slightly. "Shame. I was gonna light the bastard on fire." Sam just looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Harry sighed and dropped the playful façade. "Sometimes you have to laugh in danger's face," he said tiredly, glancing at Sam. "Or you won't be able to face it at all. Now, come on. I want to make sure Jenny and Kess are okay."

A short while later, Harry and Sam sat in the parlor with Dean. Jenny bustled around, poking up the fire, putting out a tray of pastries on the coffee table, and passing around mugs of hot chocolate before nestling into a chair herself and looking expectantly around at the men. Dean pulled out a flask and splashed a generous amount of amber liquid into his cup. He quirked an eyebrow at the others and, much to his dismay, they all held out their cups. Passing the flask around with a resigned slump of his shoulders, he noticed that Sam's hands shook slightly as he poured the last of it into his mug.

With a sip and a sigh, Harry leaned back in his chair.

"How's Kess?" He asked, noting the absence of his young friend. "Is she all right?"

"She's so exhausted, she actually slept through most of it," Jenny pulled a blanket down from the back of her chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. "She woke briefly from the first crash, but fell back asleep once Dean came in."

"She muttered a few times," Dean added. "But I don't think she ever fully woke up. Last few days have really taken it out of her."

"That was quite the bomb that got sprung on her today," Sam glanced up. "How's she dealing with that?"

Jenny's lips trembled slightly and she stabbed at the fire again before straightening her shoulders.

"That is between me and my daughter," she said with the firm conviction of someone who isn't sure they can fix what they've broken.

Harry nodded while Sam looked pensively into his cup. Jenny poked the fire with more vigor than was needed for a while before glancing at the three men in her sitting room.

"So, what are we going to do? This thing has attacked my inn twice and I don't fancy it happening a third time. I'm surprised I'm retaining as much business as I am with all this unrest."

"The plan was to go after it with White Ash today. That got scrapped thanks to last night's adventure," said Harry. "Sam got it with silver bullets tonight and it's still standing, but it isn't too happy." The wizard paused. "Listens-to-Wind told me that if you see a Skinwalker's face and don't call it by its Name, it'll hunt you down and kill you so that you can't learn it. Seems to be one of the few monsters that's figured out that its Name controls it."

"The lore that I found says that a correct ID will also sap its power and cause it to wither and die in a few days," mused Sam, swirling his hot chocolate in his mug.

"Too bad we don't know who this creep was before he went all fangy and evil," grumbled Dean, draining his cup.

"Did you see it?" Sam asked. "It sounded like it got upstairs for a moment."

"Yeah," said Dean. "Clung to the wall outside the window like some giant freaking spider. Man, that dude is ugly. What about you two? Any visuals?"

"Not me," said Harry. "Door was in the way at first and things got blurry when I blasted it. Sam got some solid hits in though."

"Yeah. It was ugly," said Sam slowly, his thoughts already moving. "So, we don't know his Name, but we can get our hands on some White Ash and we already have silver bullets."

"Looks like it's a full-on hunt then," grunted Dean, standing and stretching.

"I'll bring the Palo Santo here tomorrow morning," Harry nodded. "We can do the ritual burning and then I'll take you to the park where it's been hanging out."

"Sounds good." Sam put his cup down on the table and nodded to Jenny. "Thanks for the hot chocolate. Are you going to be all right tonight?"

"I'll manage," the older woman smiled.

"I'll go settle you upstairs," Harry said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulders. "Don't worry about clearing up. I know where the kitchen is." Turning to the brothers, he nodded towards the front door. "I'd feel better if we kept watch on that for the rest of the night."

"When you come back, we'll work out shifts," nodded Sam.

As Harry and Jenny left, Sam walked over to the stone fireplace and poked at the embers. He added another log and once satisfied with the warm blaze, he turned to his brother with a frown.

"So, what happened back there?" He demanded.

"What?" Dean glared at his brother's angry tone.

"You were supposed to be covering me, but instead, you go charging up the stairs to go protect Kess. Last I checked, you didn't even like her!" Sam spread his hands wide accusingly.

"You and Harry could handle yourselves down here," Dean began to pace. "That thing came after her once already. Besides," he swung his arm towards the door Harry had just exited through, "you heard Dresden. If she saw its face, it would have to specifically kill her."

"But she didn't see its face, remember?" Sam's mouth thinned as he stared at his brother.

"It doesn't know that," Dean folded his arms and glared sullenly. "Anyways, it was a good thing I was up there. It did make an appearance, if you'll remember."

Sam put his hands on the back of his head and hissed out a breath from between clenched teeth, staring at the ceiling and shaking his head.

"Not the point, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth to give a sharp retort when Harry came back in. The wizard stopped and looked between the two of them, raising his eyebrows.

"Everything okay here?"

Dean's mouth pulled back at the corner and he huffed a breath out through his nose.

"It's fine," he snapped. "You two discuss the rotation. I'm gonna get some Asprin or something. This headache just won't quit."

Both Harry and Sam frowned as Dean shouldered his way past the wizard and shut the door firmly behind him.

"Headaches?" The wizard looked sideways at Sam.

"Yeah. Since yesterday."

"Hmm," Harry just narrowed his eyes.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Sam took first watch, Harry second, and Dean the last one. Come morning, the wizard bade the brothers farewell and agreed to meet them back at Wren's Nest by ten-thirty with the materials they needed.

Then, they would go hunting.


	13. Die Hard the Hunter

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 13 - Die Hard the Hunter**

_He is the shadow that's following you.  
__He takes no prisoners when he's hunting for game.  
__He's got a bullet and it carries your name._

_~Def Leppard_

**... ... ... ...**

Harry nudged the battered wooden door of the little apothecary shop open with his shoulder as he strolled into the store, maneuvering around a cluster of small tables crowded with brown-tinted bottles, each stopped with a cork and sealed with wax.

No strings of beads cluttered archways to add a New Age appeal for those who claimed to be "communing with nature" with self-prescribed herbal concoctions. No knock-off tapestries or brightly patterned fabrics festooned the walls to give the place a gypsy-like feel. There were no black candles or chipped skulls to draw in the wannabes who dabbled in the occult in order to feel exciting. No colored lights, black cats, or crystals of various shapes and colors to give the place that comforting familiarity that whispered, _this isn't actually real._

_No_, Harry thought, smugness and apprehension mixing into a grim kind of satisfaction, _this place was as authentic as it got._ There was real power here, the kind that shouldn't be used lightly. It was why he didn't direct many people to come down this particular alley into this particular establishment.

While the shop was sparsely decorated, with a large Seal of Solomon inlaid into the teak floor in lighter panels of oak and holly as its only decoration, it was cluttered with containers of every kind, dimly illuminated through grimy windows.

In the back, one entire wall had been built over with shelves and cubbies that housed old mason jars, each boasting a handwritten label attached to the lid with twine listing the individual common spell components held within. Old prescription bottles, carefully relabeled and stuffed with the most potent of ingredients, lined the shelves behind a small wooden table that stood on the opposite wall by the door. Those shelves alone boasted locking plexi-glass doors and iron casings.

Harry stifled a cough as the thick smell of dust and spices burned his nose and scratched at the back of his throat. The muffled sound carried through the little shop and was met by the thump and rattle of disturbed bottles.

A clear glass tube with a black snap lid rolled out from between the ceiling-high bookshelves that were arranged to form aisles across the room. Harry gently stopped it with his toe and stooped to pick it up. The faded label read "Powdered Wormwood".

"Ah yes," a low tenor voice drifted out from farther back in the shop, "Irish monastery. 1342. Dried and ground with all appropriate rituals by a Celtic Druid. Potent stuff that. Time and patience have made it strong. But not right, I think, for your purposes today."

A slender man in an oversized white hooded sweatshirt, faded jeans, and sandals stepped out of the shadows. Pale eyes gazed unblinkingly at Harry out of an angular face, completely bald. In stark contrast with the calm voice, the man held himself tightly, his fingers continuously weaving and reweaving themselves together in front of him. He stretched out a hand for the vial.

Harry handed it over slowly, keeping his movement smooth. Long fingers closed around the bottle and tucked it away in some unseen pocket.

"You're right, as usual, Brother Andrew," Harry inclined his head towards the enclosed shelves behind the table. "What I need is probably in there somewhere. Quality work, by the way. New cabinets?"

The shop owner moved around to the back of the desk, shoulders hunched, arms pressed tightly inwards. He pulled a small iron key from a drawer, unlocked the doors, and slid one open.

"Not all of my clientele can be trusted, Mr. Dresden," he replied imperturbably.

Harry 'tsk'ed in agreement and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm looking for Palo Santo today. Have you got any?" He was learning that pleasantries were wasted in this shop.

Those unblinking grey eyes swung towards him again. Even with his head turned to look at Harry, Brother Andrew's hands rifled with quick precision through the yellow plastic bottles. He pulled one out from the back and set it on the table. Harry could just barely see a fat twig inside.

"Peru. 1649. It took the expedition two months to find the tree and another three weeks to prepare the ritual of safe harvest. Just enough in each vial to make a small amount of White Ash."

Harry merely nodded. Brother Andrew's intuition could be unnerving at times.

"Thank you for your help today, Brother," Harry said gravely, reaching for his purchase. He had just enough time to get home and complete the purification ritual before he had to meet the Winchesters at the park.

Brother Andrew's long hands clutched convulsively at the little bottle, but his face and voice remained as calm and pleasant as ever.

"You'll have better luck here, I think." He began pulling various items out from underneath the desk while handing Harry a slip of paper. "The ingredients are all here in the shop. Mostly against the back wall." He gestured into the shop and continued rummaging.

Harry's mouth thinned, but he knew better to argue with this particular shop owner. Grimly, he wandered through the shop, pulling jars and baggies off various shelves as he went. As he surveyed the wall of cubbies in the back, glancing between his list and the labels on the jars, he could hear Brother Andrew muttering to himself, an endless verbal inventory of the shop.

_Dove's Wing Feathers. England. 1892. Raised by a priest in Cornwall._

_Dried Roses. Spain. 2005. Picked from the headstone of a Saint. Rare._

_Finger Bone of the Dead. New Orleans. 1998. Mustn't ask where he got them, oh no. _

Harry huffed out a silent chuckle. The man even muttered in that agreeable tone. He climbed up a ladder to reach an upper shelf. Squinting to make out a tag that was faded beyond legibility, Harry reached out to pull the jar down when the muttering stopped mid-recitation.

"Oh, no. Not that one, Mr. Dresden," Brother Andrew's voice carried no trace of alarm or irritation. Harry glanced back at him. He hadn't even looked up. "Not even my new cabinet doors would protect my stock if you used Dried Hellebore in this ritual. England. 1437. It's become volatile in its old age. What you want is two jars over. Powdered Abalone. Venice. 1805. Mermaids' songs were caught inside."

Gently pulling the correct jar off the shelf, Harry dusted off the lid as he descended the ladder and made his way back to the front desk.

Brother Andrew had placed the Palo Santo in a small silver chalice in the center of a circle with five smaller circles evenly spaced around it. A silver tinderbox sat on the desk next to it. He carefully measured out the correct amount of each component in the appropriate circle. Finally he looked up at Harry with a small smile.

"And now, Blood of the Living. Chicago. 2006."

"I'm not entirely okay with this part," Harry held out his hand, forefinger extended.

**... ... ... ...**

The Impala rumbled to a stop against the curb at the edge of a wooded park. The doors creaked in unison as both brothers got out. Sam slammed his door with more force than usual, causing Dean's head to snap up, ever-vigilant against potential damage to his baby.

"So, are you going to cover me this time, or are you going to leave that to the wizard again?" Sam didn't bother to hide his frustration as he leaned his arms on the roof and glared at his brother.

"Really? You wanna have this conversation now?" Dean asked incredulously, raising both his eyebrows.

"I just want to know where we stand, Dean. I don't want to charge in without any backup."

"Look," Dean walked around to lean against the car next to his brother. "Last night, it was like this pull in the back of my head. I was halfway to her room before I realized I didn't even know where her room was."

"So, it's like some mystical GPS that you have no control over?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and frowned.

"At the inn, I'm pretty sure if I just started wandering around, I'd end up where she is." He shrugged. "It's better when we're away from there. Easier to ignore out here."

Sam frowned and turned to his brother to say more, but was interrupted by Harry's VW Bug pulled around the corner and up to the park.

The Blue Beetle settled into its parking space with a rattle and a metallic clank from the engine. Dean winced at the sound, shaking his head once again at the multi-colored junkyard reject that Dresden claimed was a car.

The three men exchanged nods as they gathered on the curb.

"You're late," Dean challenged as Dresden got out of his car. "You got what we need?"

Harry nodded as he came to stand by them.

"Had to do some clean-up before I came. Took longer than I expected." He turned back to survey the park, one hand shoved deep in a duster pocket.

Young children played happily on a small play structure while their mothers watched from a shady nook. The excited giggles were punctuated by the rusty squeal of old swings and the clatter of little feet on the segmented plastic bridges. A few of the moms pushed strollers along the perimeter, chatting and smiling as they went. Behind them, a leafy trail invited the more intrepid walkers to hike farther into the park.

_So many people,_ Harry thought grimly._ Too much collateral damage._

"Easy pickings," muttered Dean, echoing the wizard's thoughts.

"It picked a good spot," Sam's mouth was set in a thin line as he looked around. "Any killings can be easily hidden or written off as muggings. Can't hunt it easily, either. Too many witnesses."

"Don't'cha hate it when the monsters start getting smart?" Dean grumbled, turning back towards the cars.

Glancing up to make sure that they weren't being watched too closely, he popped the trunk of the Impala and pulled out a couple of handguns, passing one to Sam and clicking the other one open. Harry whistled approvingly and pulled out his own gun. Dean raised an appreciative eyebrow – it would seem that the wizard's taste in cars was not reflected in his weaponry.

Dresden pulled a small box out of one of the pockets in the duster and flipped the lid open. Silver bullets glinted coldly in the morning sunlight, each one's tip coated in a chalky white film. The wizard dumped six of them into his hand and passed the box to Sam, who did the same before giving it to Dean. He emptied it, tossed the box in with the other weapons, and slammed the trunk shut.

"Six each," Harry said as they started down the hiking trail, weapons concealed beneath their jackets. "Hopefully, that'll do the trick."

They proceeded along the wooded trail in silence, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. Above them, birds twittered while the occasional squirrel rustled through fallen leaves and loam before skittering up a tree trunk. The only other sounds beyond the usual forest noises were the crunching of the men's boots as they moved farther down the trail. As if by an unspoken agreement that they were far enough away from potential witnesses, the three men drew their weapons. Keeping his gun at the ready, Sam turned back to Dean.

Whatever question he'd been about to ask his brother died in his throat as he caught sight of a long-limbed shadow racing through the trees beside them. He whirled and aimed his gun.

At empty air.

"I saw it too, Sammy." Dean's voice had gone hard – his hunting voice.

What headspace his brother entered when his voice took on that edge, Sam was never sure. But, in some regards, his brother had retreated, and wouldn't return until they put this creature in a body bag. Sam had always envied Dean that particular flavor of tunnel-vision. Too much outside of hunter life intruded on his mind for him to ever fully develop such an attitude.

He squared his shoulders and leveled his gun, scanning the woods, listening. Ahead of him, Dresden froze, gun raised. He lifted a finger and swung it to point farther into the trees. The faint cracking of branches and crunching of bark and loam gave the creature away. The rest of the wooded area had gone silent.

"That way. I guess being hurt has made it sloppy."

The three men jogged down the trail, guns drawn. Even in such a crisis, Harry couldn't help but idly ponder how nice it was to have people who could keep up with him running. Murph, for all that she was in better shape than he was, just couldn't keep up with his long legs over any sort of distance and Thomas usually just humored him when they jogged together – the half-vampire could out-strip him without even breaking a sweat. These hunters, however, easily matched his loping strides, allowing them to move smoothly through the trees as a unit. _Maybe this is what Billy and Georgia feel when the Alphas go out as a group._

A sharp rustle behind them made them skid to a stop and twist around to face their attacker. Sure enough, Harry caught the faintest glimpse of long limbs and a furred back disappearing into the foliage.

An eerie sort of growling cackle drifted out from the opposite direction. Sam frowned and Dean cursed as they tried to pinpoint its source.

"Split up?" Puffed Sam, slightly winded.

The other two nodded, similarly short on breath.

"Who goes where?"

Dean held one fist over his open palm and nodded in Harry's direction.

"Winner gets first pick."

The wizard raised an eyebrow, but stepped up, hands mirroring Dean's. Three quick thwacks later, Dean grinned triumphantly. Sam just shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Scissors beats paper. Sorry, Dumbledore." He pointed in the direction that the sound had come from. "We'll take that one."

Harry nodded and they parted ways. As the wizard ducked out of sight into the trees, Sam turned to Dean.

"You think he'll be okay on his own?"

"If he's handled anything even remotely similar to this, he should be fine," Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Let's go."

Sam took two steps along the trail when a hot weight slammed past him. His brother's alarmed shout ended abruptly in a breathless grunt as the Skinwalker tackled Dean to the ground, knocking his gun out of his hands.

"Dean!" Sam hollered

"Dammit, Sammy, just shoot it!" Dean roared over the top of the creature's growls and snarls. It kept the hunter pinned, all of its weight pressed onto his chest, as it slashed and clawed at his face and throat. Dean grappled with its long arms, simultaneously trying to protect himself and reclaim his gun.

Lips pressed together, Sam cocked his gun and advanced, firing shot after shot into the hairy creature, praying that his aim wasn't off. The Skinwalker jerked in pain, but stayed locked with Dean as they struggled. Sam heard Dean grunt as the monster finally managed to rake his face with its claws. Nostrils flaring, Sam fired a fourth shot, only to have the gun jam. A sound tinged with desperation came out of him as he struggled with his weapon, one eye on his brother and the Skinwalker.

Ignoring the pain that was snaking across the side of his face, Dean bared his teeth as he held the monster's wrists away from his head with one hand, desperately groping for his gun with the other. Saliva dripped on his cheeks as it leaned closer in, pressing its advantage. He heard the click of Sam's gun jamming and his little brother's muffled curses as he tried to unjam it. His eyes widened as he strained against the creature, lips white, jaw clenched. It just laughed deep in its chest, and bared its teeth in a shark-like grin.

His fingertips brushed against something smooth and Dean risked glancing away from the monster. He had finally reached his gun, now if only he could get a good grip on it. He strained, reached, and managed to grasp the handle. Without hesitation, he whipped the gun up under the Skinwalker's ribs and squeezed the trigger. It shrieked in pain.

He kept firing.

It arched its back and abruptly its arms went slack as it collapsed against the hunter. Dean felt his breath whoosh out on impact and he let his head drop to the ground. He heard footsteps and soon Sam's face peered over the corpse.

"Dean! Are you all right?"

"Heh," Dean mustered up a battered grin. "I'll be better once you get Ugly here off of me."

As Sam heaved the Skinwalker's body off of his brother, Harry came running up, gun drawn. He stopped short to survey the scene.

"I heard gunfire," he started.

"Yeah," croaked Dean, "kinda missed the party. Sucks, don't it, Gandalf?"

"I really missed out on all the action on this one," the wizard frowned in annoyance. "Probably better for my health, but still."

Harry walked closer as he spoke. Sam gave a final shove and flipped the corpse off his brother. He and Harry pulled Dean up and the three men stared down at the body at their feet. What had definitely been a fangy, hairy, moderately deformed creature was now a seemingly normal human corpse. Pale green eyes stared blankly out of a freckled face. Bits of bracken and a few dead leaves festooned tangled brown hair. The only clothing that adorned the body was a shredded pair of blue jeans and a pendant made out of woven strips of black leather. Dean reached down to investigate but Harry grabbed his shoulder.

"Better not," he said. "It takes murdering kin to kick off the spell to become a Skinwalker. A blood spell that nasty is best left alone, as are any trinkets connected to it. Allow me."

Dean shrugged and stepped back. Harry circled the corpse once, examining it before pointing at it and snarling, "_Fuego_". Immediately, the corpse caught on fire. Sam let out a surprised huff of breath and Dean looked impressed in spite of himself.

"Told ya I was gonna light him on fire," Harry looked sideways at Sam and smirked.

It took a good forty-five minutes for the corpse to burn as the men stood around and watched. Finally, satisfied that the thing was no longer recognizable as human or otherwise and that any residue of evil magic had been burned away, Harry gathered the remains into a thick plastic trash bag. He straightened up and slung it over his shoulder with a grunt. Without saying much they headed back up the trail to the main park where life went on, blissfully unaware that there had ever been any immediate potential for it to stop.

As the three men crossed the grass on the outside of the play structure, one of the young moms looked up. Her smile died a quick death when she took a look at the dried blood that streaked the side of Dean's face.

"Oh my gosh," her voice came out a breathless squeak. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, that?" Sam shook his head. "Just an accident on the trail. See, my brother tripped."

"Trash clean-up day," supplied Harry, holding up the bag as evidence.

"Gotta protect our environment." Dean deadpanned, his eyes crinkling around the corners as he produced an insincere smile.

With that, the three men hurried away before the woman could say more. Harry slung the bag into the back of the Blue Beetle and turned to look at the Winchesters.

"Gotta hand it to you, Dresden," Dean stepped up, "your bullets really did the trick."

"Bullet's only as good as the guy carrying the gun. Nice work yourself." Harry nodded towards Dean's face. "What about the head wound? I know a guy who can patch you up."

"Nah. Had worse." Dean shrugged.

"When do you want to follow up on the other trail?" Sam asked, heading around from stowing the weapons in the trunk of the Impala.

"We'll get in touch tonight," the wizard replied. "I've got to get rid of what's left of Ugly. I'll come by Wren's Nest when I'm done."

"Just call us," Sam replied, handing him a scrap of paper. "These are two of our numbers."

"Works for me," Harry pocketed the paper and folded himself into his car.

He started the engine with a wheeze and a clatter and pulled out into traffic. Dean shook his head once again, unable to reconcile himself to the existence of such a vehicle, and climbed into the Impala. As he turned the key in the ignition, he gave the car an affectionate pat on the dashboard. Sam just rolled his eyes as he snapped his seatbelt in place.

Three classic rock hits and one power ballad later, they pulled up to the street a couple blocks away from Wren's Nest and headed to the inn. As they walked through the front door, Jenny and Kess looked up from what looked like ledgers of some sort. Both women gaped at the wounds for just a moment before Jenny went to get the first aid kit, ignoring Dean's protests. Kess followed them up the stairs, looking worried. Sam watched her out of the corner of his eye.

She and Dean seemed to loosely orbit each other, but they wouldn't make eye contact or speak. She went as far as their room, hovered for a moment, before just shaking her head in disgust and hurrying up to her room. Dean huffed out a breath and pulled the key out of his pocket.

As they went in, Jenny came up with the first aid kit.

"Did you get it?" She asked.

"One of them," Sam took the kit and smiled. "We should be able to wrap this up soon."

"That'll be a relief," Jenny smiled and turned to leave. "You boys have done more good than harm while you've been here. I'd almost feel safe opening this place up to hunters if more of your kind were like you."

Sam just smiled as she walked down the hall. As she turned the corner to the stairs, he shut the door and tossed his brother the little white and blue box. Muttering, Dean dug through it and went into the bathroom to shower and clean up his face.

He came out some time later looking much better. Some sutures held the outer ends of the cut shut, though Sam noticed a short line of tight stitches through the middle. Despite that, Dean seemed much more cheerful as he flopped onto the bed for a quick cat nap. Sam followed suit and didn't stir until his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up and winced at the burst of static from the other end.

"_Hey,"_ Harry's voice crackled. _"Murph called and told me to meet her at Allison's apartment building. Seems they found something else. You should get here as soon as you can."_

"Sure," Sam sat up and tossed a pillow at his dozing brother. Dean grunted and rubbed his eyes as he sat up, glaring in Sam's direction. "We'll be right over."


	14. Master of Puppets

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch.14 – Master of Puppets**

_Master of Puppets, I'm pulling your strings,  
__Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams.  
__Blinded by me, you can't see a thing…_

_~Metallica_

**... ... ... ...**

Harry came to with a groan, propped up against the wall, his legs splayed out across the floor in front of him. He tried to touch his aching head, but any motion was prevented by the multiple bungee cords that were wound around his wrists, effectively pinning his arms behind his back. He was willing to bet that, given the warm, sticky sensation that streaked the side of his face, he was bleeding, or had been at some point. His shoulders shook with silent, mirthless laughter.

So much for missing all the action.

Slowly, ever so gently, he rotated his head, peering around the dim room. Even that slight motion had his head throbbing with dull nausea. Gritting his teeth against the faint seasick feeling, Harry continued to survey his surroundings as best he could. Both Winchesters were slumped on the floor next to him, just as banged up as he assumed he was, and just as tied up. A faint orange light dribbled in through a single high window – almost night. In the far corner of the room was a single twin mattress with a thick blanket and a plush pillow. Next to it were a simple wooden desk and a chair, above which swung a bare light bulb.

A faint rustle on the other side of him prompted him to roll his head in its direction. Dean had opened his eyes and was trying to maneuver himself into a sitting position. He hissed as he jostled his head and glared sourly as he finished righting himself.

"Son of a bitch, that hurts," he growled, leaning his head against the wall. Squinting in Harry's direction, he smirked. "That's one hell of an egg you're sporting there, Dresden."

"Look in the mirror, Hot Shot," Harry fired back, relieved that the hunter had enough of his wits about him to be mouthy.

Sam moaned as he regained consciousness. He tried to sit up, but ended up flat on his back, eyes pressed shut in pain. He bared his teeth and concentrated on breathing for a second.

"Easy, Sammy," Dean's back was to his brother, so Harry could see the anguished concern that flashed across his face. It was quickly replaced by grim determination as he slowly turned so that his back was against the wall. "Any idea what got us? From the headache, I'll put money on a witch with a crowbar."

Sam huffed out a pained laugh.

"Somehow, I doubt it'll be that easy."

Harry's shoulders slumped. The younger Winchester was right. Nothing was ever that easy.

"Where were you anyways?" Sam leaned forward to peer at Harry. "We got here, saw your car, and… that's about the last thing I remember."

"I think I know what I got us, 'cause Murph wasn't here when I showed up either." One side of Harry's mouth pulled back and he blew a breath out through his nose. "You're not gonna be happy about it."

Dean opened his mouth to reply, annoyance written clearly across his face, when a muffled thud from the next room signaled that whoever was holding them had returned. Light footsteps crossed the floor and the door swung open. A tall figure was silhouetted in the rectangle of yellow light. Its eyes seemed to catch the light in an eerie way as it reached into the room and flicked a switch.

The bare bulb flared, flooding the room with light and causing all three men to jerk back, accustomed as they had become to the dim room, squeezing their eyes shut against such a simple assault.

Their assailant laughed, stepping into the room. Sam took one look at his face and frowned.

"Hey, I know you. You're that guy. The guy from the elevator."

The man stroked his brown beard and chuckled as he pulled the chair right up to where they were piled against the wall and took a seat.

"Always nice to make an impression, though, in this particular case, I do believe I would've been better off if I hadn't." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You three have really caused me a lot of trouble, you know. I'm tempted to take it personally."

"Don't flatter yourself," Dean snarled, sneering up at him. "Taking out psychos and their pet monsters is what we do. In the end, you all start to blur together. Not sure we even remember your name."

At the mention of a name, both Harry and Sam stiffened. Sam's brows knit in concentration. He was sure that this guy had told them his name – if he could just remember.

The man very casually backhanded Dean across the face, splitting his stitches and knocking the hunter's head back against the wall. Reaching out, the man grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair and yanked him forward. A smear of blood colored the wall where his head had made contact.

"You're being rude," the man told the dazed hunter. "Anyways, I'm no mere psycho and David wasn't my pet monster." He released Dean's hair and leaned back, letting the hunter flop to the ground. "Honestly, he was starting to become a liability. I don't know whether to hurt you a little extra for killing him or thank you."

Sam had started writhing in his bonds the instant his brother's head cracked against the wall. Abruptly, he noticed that there was more give to the cords than there should be. He stilled and began quietly and methodically rotating his wrists to get free.

Oblivious to his brother's motions, Dean rasped out a rough laugh.

"You gotta know, with him gone, the wizard, my brother, and I are gonna burn your coven to the ground."

The man began to chuckle, shaking his head and looking pityingly at Dean.

"Coven? Is that your working theory?"

He took a breath to continue gloating, but Harry cut him off, ignoring him to talk to the hunter.

"Hate to break it to you, Dean, but all the covens left in this town are clean. This one," he jerked his head at the bearded man sitting in the chair, "is our only guy. And he's a Skinwalker too."

Their captor arched an eyebrow and turned its gaze on the wizard. Slowly, it leaned forward until they were nose to nose.

"Impressive. It seems you're the brains of this scruffy trio."

Harry drew his knees up to his chest and slowly began to push himself up the wall. The Skinwalker merely watched him, smirking slightly.

"Who you callin' scruffy?" the wizard drawled, ignoring the ensuing dizziness, "I do have to do this sort of thing for a living. Besides, once you lured me here using Murph's voice, it wasn't too difficult to figure out. Kinda revealed your hand there. Not too bright, if you ask me. You gave up the element of surprise."

The Skinwalker's mouth twitched. Without taking its eyes off of Harry's face, it lifted one leg and slammed its heel down on top of the wizard's bent knee. They all heard the pop as he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Fighting not to throw up, Harry kept his jaw clamped shut and tried to pretend that he didn't hear the pained sounds that were erupting from his own throat.

Beside him, Dean struggled to sit up, blood oozing thickly down the side of his face. Sam continued to work on loosening the bungee cords that held him, ignoring the scrape of fibers against his chafed skin. The feeling of sticky resistance let him know that he had broken skin. Flaring his nostrils, he kept half an eye on the Skinwalker and kept working. If only he could remember that name.

"It's a funny thing to be called stupid by the men who fell for the most basic of my tricks," the Skinwalker bared its teeth in a not-smile, but Harry cut it off again, glaring up from the floor and panting slightly.

"The hex bags were a pretty good ruse, I'll give you that. But we found you out in the end, didn't we? I'm betting you were a pretty small wizard before you decided to become a full-fledged monster if that's all you could cook up to distract us."

Grasping Harry by the throat, the Skinwalker slowly lifted the wizard off the ground, its eyes taking on their own reddish glow as it smiled that not-smile again. Harry gurgled slightly as it tightened its grip.

"Oh, but it worked, didn't it? You all took a single look at that one bag and made a whole bunch of assumptions – so many that you didn't even notice my little spell sneak its way in there. 'Don't see me'. That was all I had to say and none of you could even hope to find me until I let you."

"You can't take all the credit," Sam called, hoping to goad the Skinwalker into dropping Harry before it crushed his windpipe. "David drew us away from you more than the hex bags. With him gone, it was only a matter of time before we found you, spell or no spell."

Casually, the Skinwalker tossed Harry aside and advanced on Sam, ignoring the wizard's coughing and gasping. Seeing their assailant approach, Sam stopped wiggling his wrists and sat very still. It crouched down so that it was eye level with the tall hunter.

"Poor David. He had a weak mind-"

"Yeah." Sam interrupted, noting the flash of anger in its eyes, "He didn't even bother trying to look human when we killed him. He was so far gone that I'm not even sure he remembered how to talk. How long do you think it'll take before you get to that point?"

"You misjudge me," the Skinwalker laughed, resting clawed fingertips against Sam's chest. The hunter grunted in pain as the monster steadily applied pressure. Five splotches of red blossomed over his shirt as the claws dug in a little further, embedded now up to the first knuckle. "You see, David got caught up in the joy of it all, the rush of power as you pull someone out of their own shell and add them to yourself. You'll find that I'm much more cold-blooded about the whole thing."

Satisfied that its claws were sunk in deep enough, the Skinwalker started to slowly twist. Sam screamed through clenched teeth. The creature just laughed as the sound mixed with Dean's outraged shout.

"Oh yeah?" Sam rasped, coughing. "You're telling me you didn't get off killing your brother and sister?"

"A means to an end. Killing my brother was part of the ritual. Absorbing my sister gave me access to her creative mind. She was always good at strategy."

"Yeah, well," Harry gasped from where the Skinwalker had thrown him, "You're still just a cheap imitation. A real Skinwalker – one of the originals – would have wiped us off of the face of the map by now. You're just a tiny man living off stolen power."

Eyes narrowing, the Skinwalker withdrew its claws from Sam's chest and idly wiped them off on his shirt as it stood. Dean shook his head as he continued his attempt to sit up and hissed at Harry.

"Dude, you got a death wish? Shut up and stay down!"

Giving Sam a vicious kick in the stomach, it crossed over to Harry and kicked him as well, lifting the wizard a few inches off the ground. Harry landed with a wheeze.

"I'll just have to rectify that, now won't I," the creature snarled nastily as it kicked the wizard again. "We felt it, David and I, the night before last. The answer to all our problems. David couldn't handle it, but I-"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry coughed, curled around his stomach. "I'm betting you figured out that what you two felt was the Wild Hunt so now you wanna summon the Erlking and eat him. Haven't you heard the saying, 'Never absorb an energy field bigger than your head'?"

The Skinwalker went absolutely still. Its eyes shone a hectic red as it stared down at the wizard. Still panting in pain behind it, Sam resumed working free of his bonds. Finally upright again, Dean leaned his head back against the wall.

"You really are good at what you do," it said quietly. "But, you know, it's a funny thing. Here I have you, tied up – literally a captive audience – I've beaten all of you to various stages of bloody, and you still have the gall to interrupt me, as if I'm not the one in control here."

"Well, what can I say?" Dean grunted, glaring up at the monster, "You just don't have what it takes. Doesn't matter what you do, what you take, you'll never have that thing that makes people respect you."

The Skinwalker's fist slammed into Dean's face with enough force to knock him back to the floor. Crouching over him, it continued to pound his face and shoulders, breaking skin and raising welts with each strike. The monster made no sound as it beat the hunter, its calm face an unsettling contrast to the frenzied viciousness of its assault.

Finally, with Dean on the cusp of consciousness, the Skinwalker lifted him by his shirt so they were eye to eye. The hunter hung limply in its grip, one eye swollen completely shut. His head lolled to one side as he coughed and blood dribbled from his nose and lips. The Skinwalker pulled him closer.

"You mock, you sneer," it snarled softly, "but I've been inside your head. I've seen your little faerie girl, your fragile 'Lree'. She's the the last piece, you see – the bait. I'll drain her dry while her father watches and then I'll get him too. Think of all that power locked away – and you gave me the key."

"Go to Hell," Dean slurred, mumbling through a mouth sloppy with blood.

The Skinwalker hurled him against the far wall. He bounced and hit the mattress, completely unconscious. It turned towards Harry and casually kicked him in the already injured knee before cutting off his shout of pain by slamming his forehead into the ground. Sam rotated his wrists frantically as the monster turned towards him. One hand was almost free.

The creature planted one booted foot against Sam's chest, causing the hunter to gasp as it applied pressure to the gashes caused by its claws. It pushed him backwards before heading towards the door. It paused and looked back, smirking as it turned out the light.

"Don't go anywhere. I'm bound to be hungry when I get back."

Sam just groaned as he tried to breathe through the burning in his chest. Slumping to the ground, he just barely registered the click of the outside lock before he passed out.

**... ... ... ...**

An increasingly familiar shiver twitched down Kess's spine as she searched for the folder full of this month's receipts. She froze and shuddered, rolling her neck before stooping to finish rummaging through her desk. That hunter must have said her Name again, wherever he was.

She really wished he would stop doing that.

"Ah-ha!"

She grinned as she pulled out the correct manila folder and nudged the drawer shut with her hip. Turning towards the door, she hesitated. Finally, she blew out a breath and squared her shoulders and headed down the stairs to go over the expenses logbook with her mother.

**... ... ... ...**

The room was nearly pitch black when Sam regained consciousness. He winced as he sat up, squinting up at the window. The sunset's light had faded, leaving only the faint glow of outside streetlights to coat the room a dingy yellow. The dark lump on the floor that had to be Harry stirred slightly, but didn't fully regain consciousness. His brother still lay where he had landed on the mattress, a dried bloodstain under his cheek and mouth.

His chest and wrists throbbed but Sam set to work freeing his right hand. Hissing as the thick cord rasped against raw skin, he slipped his hand free and shook off the rest of the bindings. Crawling over to Harry, he untied the wizard and carefully sat him up. Harry groaned and coughed as he lifted a hand to gingerly prod the myriad of bruises on his face. Sam gave him a gentle slap on the back before slowly standing up and shuffling over to check on Dean.

His brother was still breathing, much to Sam's relief, but appeared to be out cold. Frowning in the darkness, he made his way to the doorway and fumbled along the wall until he found the light switch.

"Light incoming," he said as he scrunched his eyes shut.

The bulb snapped to life and Harry grunted, putting his arm up to shadow his face. He blinked as he adjusted to the light and lowered his arm.

Sam's eyes widened and he let out a low whistle. In the illuminated room, he could see that the wizard's throat was swollen and had already started to turn purple with bruising. Dried blood crusted around his nose and mouth and streaked his forehead and neck. Harry's battered lips cracked as he let out a rasping laugh.

"That bad, huh?" he croaked.

Sam shook his head and raised his eyebrows.

"Worse."

**... ... ... ...**

Folder tucked under her arm, Kess saw that her mother was waiting for her as she approached. Jenny had the logbook open on the main desk, but seemed distracted as she looked anywhere but at her daughter. Kess sighed and plunked the folder on the desk and flipped it open. As she rustled through receipts, she felt her mother's furtive glances. Kess gritted her teeth.

"Ready, Ma?" She tried to keep her voice even and pleasant.

The two women bent to their task, Jenny speaking low and quickly while Kess kept her replies clipped and efficient. Finally, Jenny looked up.

"I'm sorry, Kess."

"I know," Kess sighed, leaning on the desk. "You said so that night, and yesterday, and this morning."

"Well, I don't know what more you want me to do," Jenny's tone shifted from regretful to annoyed. "How long are you going to try to punish me?

"There's no point in trying to punish anyone," Kess's mouth thinned as she glared at her mother. "I'm just processing everything. That's all."

"And that's why I didn't want you to find out. I wanted to spare you- "

"You wanted to spare yourself, Ma." Kess's voice was hard as she straightened up. "Don't try to fool yourself or me with that excuse. It won't work anymore."

Jenny's shoulder slumped as she looked at her adult daughter. She straightened and re-straightened the papers on the desk, looking absolutely miserable. Kess's eyes softened and she reached across the desk to pat her mother's arm.

"You're still my mom. I'm never going to try and change that," she said gently. "But I do need to work through this in my own head, in my own time. And once I have," her voice grew firm, "I'll have some more hard questions for you."

Jenny gave her daughter a wobbly smile and nodded and the two women returned to balancing accounts.

**... ... ... ...**

When Dean finally woke up, every part of him hurt. The room rocked and tilted as he sat up. Everything was blurry and he could only see out of one eye. Heaving himself off the mattress, he lurched across the room and made it to the doorway. Holding himself up against it, he saw Harry slumped in a chair by the kitchen table, one leg propped up while Sam leaned against the kitchen sink, wringing out a bloody dishtowel. In the middle of the table lay their guns, knives, and Harry's blasting rod and bracelet. The overconfident bastard hadn't even bothered to hide their weapons properly.

"Remember what I said earlier about things hurting?" Dean trudged across the room and dropped into a chair. "Scratch that. This hurts."

Sam tossed him the damp towel.

"Here, clean yourself up." His brisk tone masked his relief. "Then we gotta get out of here. We'll have to carry Dresden – That knee isn't going to hold his weight."

"You do look like hell," Dean cheerfully told the wizard as he dabbed at the blood on his face.

"Not nearly as pretty as you, Sunshine," Harry rasped as he wearily refastened the clasp on his shield bracelet. Bruises coated the hunter's face under the blood and one eye was swollen completely shut. His bottom lip was split and swollen too.

Chucking the stained cloth into the sink, Dean's face turned grim.

"Let's get going, Sammy. You heard the creep – Kess is his target. No time to waste hanging out here."

Keeping Dresden between them, the men trooped down to the Impala. Sam continued to wrack his brain. He knew the Skinwalker had told him its Name - Justin, Jared, Jason, J-something.

James. That was it.

Sam smiled an unfriendly smile as they got in the car. Hopefully, he could pull this off.

**... ... ... ...**

Kess and Jenny were just closing the logbook when a knocking at the front door caused them to look up. Kess went over to unlock the door and saw a young man with a brown beard on the porch.

"Can I help you?" She asked, opening the door, "I'm afraid we're closed for the night."

"I'm sorry, I know it's late," the man replied. "But Harry Dresden told me that this was a safe place to stay for… people like us." He shot Kess a winsome smile.

Kess glanced back at her mother. Jenny nodded slightly and pulled out the guest log.

"The inn is always open to Harry's friends," Jenny said firmly. "Come in and we'll get you settled."

The man stepped over the threshold and smiled.

"Why, thank you. That is very kind of you."

* * *

**Ending Author's Note:** _Sorry about the late update - I was in Disneyland this last week as the travelling nanny. Sadly, the hotel WiFi sucked. Anyways, enjoy, and rest assured that we'll update on schedule through the end of the story (which is coming up pretty quick)._


	15. Back to Avalon

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 15– Back to Avalon**

_And the Phoenix flies straight and high  
Back to Avalon.  
__Now I'm on my way back to where I belong,  
__Gonna go down with the sun.  
__Back to Avalon._

_~Heart_

The inn was dark when the Impala rumbled up. For once, Dean didn't bother with parking down the street. He gave the roof a worried pat as he slammed the door and hobbled around to where Sam and Harry were easing themselves out of the car. After splitting Harry's six bullets and Sam's remaining two between their three guns, they staggered up the walk, the brothers supporting Harry between them, trying not to dwell on the fact that they may already be too late.

Sam shouldered the door open and the three men lurched in. It was eerily quiet and there were no obvious signs of struggle in the small lobby.

Somehow, that made it worse.

Sliding Harry to the bottom step of the staircase, Sam checked the lock on the door to the dining room and began to rifle through papers on the desk while Dean slumped against the wall. His harsh breathing and the riffle of flipping pages were the only sounds in the room.

"Whatcha looking for, Sammy?"

Sam thunked the stack of paperwork down in exasperation and ran his hands through his hair.

"I dunno. A clue. Something to prove it's here."

"Oh, it's here all right, young man," a creaky voice sounded from the parlor doors. "We all felt it enter and most of us felt that it was a good time to get out."

Sam whirled, gun cocked and aimed at the shadows. Harry and Dean wearily followed suite, their movements more sluggish than they wanted to admit.

A wizened figure shuffled into the lobby, knarled hands raised.

"Don't shoot. I may have been a tough bird in my day, but really, an old Dwarven grandmother doesn't pose a threat to you boys, beat up as you are. Wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

Relieved, Harry lowered his weapon as the stooped old lady came into view. In the dim moonlight, her white braid sparkled silver and her wrinkles cast deep shadows across her face.

"Baba Tila," the wizard rasped, "why didn't you leave with the rest? How did they get out so quickly, anyways? As far as I know, we haven't invented the transporter yet."

"Some of the more benign Elder Creatures opened Ways through the Nevernever. A lot of us got out that way. Some of us, though, have nowhere left to go in that world, so we stayed behind to make our way as best we could here."

"Go to Mac's," Harry gritted his teeth as he shifted on the step. "He'll get you somewhere safe until it's okay to come back here."

"You always were a good boy." Baba Tila patted Harry's battered cheek gently and began to hobble towards the door. She paused before stepping out. "You get my girls out of there, you hear me, Harry? They've worked too hard to have it all taken away just because some little malcontent got delusions of grandeur."

Harry nodded at her back as she left, not daring to speak a promise out loud that he may not be able to keep. He glanced up at Dean and saw that same conclusion in the hunter's face.

A rumble from the uppermost floor of Wren's Nest and the crackling explosion of the lights up and down the street confirmed their worst fears. A strong gust of wind raced down the stairs, slamming all of the open doors throughout the inn. Harry took a deep breath and clenched his jaw.

"Looks like we've rested long enough," he levered himself up, putting almost all of his weight on the banister. "We're out of time."

Sam stepped up and slung one of the wizard's arms over his shoulder, while Dean heaved himself off the wall and got on Harry's other side. Together, the three men trudged up the stairs and down the dark hallway, past all the empty rooms.

"That magical GPS of yours would be handy right about now," Sam's voice was strained as he addressed his brother. "Any idea where she is?"

Dean was silent for a moment and they slowed to a halt.

"Keep going up to the top floor," he said finally and they began limping forward again.

"Their suite takes up what used to be the attic," Harry nodded. "Makes sense they'd be there, I guess."

Sam pushed open a door marked "Employees Only" at the end of the hall. The narrow set of stairs on the other side was lit with a flickering orange light. Harry disentangled himself from the hunters and grasped onto the rail.

"You go on ahead," he whispered. "I'd say, 'save some for me', but I think we all know that'd just be dumb. Don't wait; kill the bastard first chance you get."

Dean nodded, readied his gun, and slapped Harry's back before heading up the stairs as quickly and as quietly as he could. Able to move a little faster than his brother, Sam edged around him, gun drawn, and took point. They eased up the stairs and around the partition that blocked their view of the rest of the apartment.

Stepping around a wooden table into a small open kitchen, they saw that the orange light came from a summoning circle in what once passed for the living room. The circle seethed with flames that crackled and popped with what seemed to be unnecessary vigor.

At the edge of the circle lay Jenny, unconscious in a heap on the floor. Beside her stood the Skinwalker, holding Kess. She stood rigid, chin lifted, jaw clenched, eyes wide. It had twisted her arms behind her back and pinned her, holding an iron knife to her throat with its other hand. Sweat dotted its forehead as it stared unblinkingly at the circle.

"Dean," Sam whispered, not daring to turn to look at his brother as they crept forward. "Dresden said that saying these things' Names will weaken them, right?"

Keeping his eyes on the Skinwalker, Dean jerked his head in a curt nod. His nostrils flared when he realized Sam couldn't see him.

"Yeah." His whisper was hoarse.

"Let's hope this works then," Sam muttered.

Through the shifting haze of smoke, both hunters could see the hulking figure imprisoned within. Clearly over seven feet tall, it towered over the Skinwalker. The antlers that protruded from the bucket helmet that covered its face only added to its stature. Two glowing circles gleamed with cold fury through the eye slits.

It could only be the Erlking.

The Fae Lord had gotten as close as he could to the edge of the circle. Everyone could feel the pressure in the air as he locked wills with the Skinwalker. Its hand shook at Kess's throat. Blood oozed thinly from around the knife blade and Dean had gotten close enough that he could see the welts and burns at the edge of the wound. He gritted his teeth and steadied his gun.

"I have your daughter, Erlking, " the Skinwalker ground out. "If you keep resisting me, I'll slit her throat in front of you."

The Erlking showed no sign that he'd heard the Skinwalker and continued to press against the circle that held him. Kess hissed as the blade nicked her throat again but she kept her eyes locked on her father, determined not to cry. She'd felt Dean enter the room and could only assume that Harry and Sam were with him. She stomped down on her captor's foot as hard as she could and was rewarded for that defiance by having her arms twisted more sharply upwards.

"Stop squirming, Lree."

The command was snarled low into her ear. Instantly and completely, she stilled. She bit her lip as she fought the command, but her mind refused to send the proper signals to her limbs and so she hung, limp and compliant as a doll, in the Skinwalker's grip.

What was taking that hunter so damned long?

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched upwards when he saw Kess grind her heel into the Skinwalker's foot. A few scratches marred its arms and, if Dean wasn't mistaken, there were a couple sets of teeth marks on the arm that held the knife. He smiled in grim approval as he tried to get a clear shot at the creature. Abruptly, though, she froze. He frowned. The Skinwalker held Kess at such an angle that neither of the hunters could hit a vital without seriously harming her in the process.

Taking a deep breath, Sam raised his gun.

"James Delacourt," he shouted, putting every ounce of mental strength he had behind the Name, "Drop it!"

The Skinwalker stiffened, eyes wide as the knife fell from its hand with a clatter. Kess elbowed it in the stomach and twisted out of its grip. Scrambling out of its reach, she hunched protectively over her mother, cradling her head and shoulders in her lap.

The Skinwalker started towards Sam, fingers lengthening into claws, when a rumbling laugh stopped it in its tracks. With a mental pop, like the breaking of a rubber band, the pressure in the room ceased completely.

A sharp gust of wind blasted from the summoning circle, pushing the flames outward to lick against the furniture and walls. Kess cried out and hugged her mother more tightly as the fire passed over them. Sam and Dean each took a frantic step forwards, but could get no further, held in place by a will much stronger than theirs.

In the cleared space the Erlking stood, now flanked on either side by two huge black hounds. Their red eyes were fixed on the Skinwalker as they crouched, hackles raised, at their master's side. Twin growls reverberated through the room, muffling the crackling of the flames that continued to grow.

The Erlking stepped out of the broken circle and turned his faceless helm towards the Skinwalker. Dean got the eerie feeling that the Fae was smiling underneath.

"Your ambition in summoning me has been thwarted, little pretender," the Fae Lord growled. "And though thy will may have contained me for a short while, I call thee a coward, for only craven men would stoop to using women and children as shields against their own failures."

The Skinwalker opened its mouth to speak, but the Erlking lifted it by its throat bodily from the ground and squeezed, cutting off all sound.

"Nay, I cannot call such as thee a man. Just a mewling wretch pretending to be a monster. Thou art meat to be wasted, not even worth a Hunt."

The Skinwalker gurgled and kicked limply. The Erlking tossed it into the remains of the summoning circle. Without turning his head, he spoke to the hounds.

"To thy quarry, my cŵn annwn."

The animals lunged at the dazed Skinwalker, tearing into its torso and throat, worrying at its limbs, ripping through flesh in such a frenzy that Sam and Dean, hardened as they were, had to look away. In a matter of seconds, the Skinwalker died a soundless death. When the hounds began to eat their kill, the Erlking stepped up.

"Cease."

The hounds raised their bloody muzzles and backed grudgingly away from the ravaged corpse. The Erlking patted their heads approvingly before stooping to pick up his daughter and her mother, both unconscious and lightly singed, but otherwise unharmed by the fire that had whirled around them. With a brief nod, he released the hunters from the hold he had on them. The men hurried forwards, but stopped as the hounds circled around to stand between their master and these strangers who were not yet prey.

"You have the mark of hunters," the Erlking said gravely. "You also have saved my daughter, for which I thank you. In return for such a deed, I shall not harm you this night." He paused. "But that promise shall not protect you should you seek me out in the future," he said severely.

He adjusted his grip on the women and moved back into the circle, calling his hounds to his side with a sharp whistle.

"Also, tell the wizard who crouches in the shadows that I have not forgotten our last encounter here. He is lucky that I have more pressing matters to attend to, else I would still take great pleasure in running him down."

And so, he vanished. With no show, no flash of light or any visual flourish, he, his hounds, and the women he held simply winked out of sight, leaving Sam and Dean alone and conscious of their burning lungs.

The entire apartment had caught on fire by this time. Without the Erlking's power to slow them, the flames licking greedily at the wood floors and whitewashed walls. In the circle, the Skinwalker had been engulfed in a stray patch of fire - already its corpse was black and crispy.

A stretch of flame reached one of the gas lamps on the far wall, causing a sudden flare as its fuel was added to the growing inferno. Flames leapt up with an audible rush and crackled against the wooden beams in the ceiling.

Coughing and covering their noses and mouths with their jackets, the brothers crouched low and ran for the staircase. Harry was slumped on the front step, unable to come further because, once the railing ended, there was nothing for him to support his weight on. He looked apologetically at the Winchesters and started to speak, but they slung his arms over their shoulders and kept going down the stairs.

"No time," Sam's voice was muffled.

"Shut up and run," Dean added, suiting his actions to his words.

The three men barreled down the stairs as best they could and kept up a limping run down the hall. Behind them, flames wound down the banister and slithered along the walls and ceiling, devouring rugs and furniture with unnatural speed.

"_Ventas!_" Harry gasped as he jarred his leg on the floor.

Immediately, a strong gust of wind blew from behind him to push the fire back. It allowed them to gain a few yards, but the flames surged forwards again, as if to make up for the lost time.

They could feel the heat on their backs and hear the crackle of the fire as they ran. Their throats burned and they ached as they forced themselves to keep moving at full speed, despite injuries.

Maintaining a steady verbal stream of obscenities, Dean readjusted his grip on Dresden as they rounded the corner and stumbled down the stairs. Sam saved his breath for running, though he didn't disagree with his brother's sentiments.

"That's quite a talent you got there," Harry grunted. "_Ventas!_" He said more forcefully.

Another blast of wind shot up the stairs to hold the fire back just long enough for them to tumble out the door. Righting themselves, they made it to the end of the drive before they collapsed. Gasping, they all looked back at the inn.

Its roof was completely engulfed in flames and windows were popping and shattering as the fire spread to each room. The entire lawn was bathed in the orange glow and flickering highlights reflected off of the Impala's polished surface.

Dragging themselves across the pavement, the three men leaned against the car and closed their eyes. No one said anything as the distant sound of police sirens and the impatient blast of fire truck horns heralded the arrival of the cavalry.

_Better late than never_ is the saying, but right then, not one of them believed it.


	16. Here I Go Again

**Author's Note: **_This is a Dresden/Supernatural crossover and is set right before "Proven Guilty" in the Dresden universe and mid-season 2 in the Supernatural universe._

**Disclaimer:** _The television show "Supernatural" was created by Eric Kripke and is the property of WarnerBros and the CW network. The Dresden Files series was written by Jim Butcher and is published by Roc Books. In writing this story, I do not claim any ownership of or rights to these series. This story is to provide amusement to myself and readers and is not meant to be seen as canon or an official addition to either universe._

* * *

**Ch. 16 – Here I Go Again **

_Here I go again on my own,  
__Going down the only road I've ever known.  
__Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone.  
__And I know what it means  
__To walk along the lonely street of dreams…_

_ ~ Whitesnake_

**... ... ... ...**

The fire trucks arrived too late to salvage the inn. Amidst the flashing lights and the smoking rubble, Murphy kept the fire chief busy with questions while EMTs tended to Sam and Dean. Plastic cups of water shoved into their hands and shock blankets forcibly draped over their shoulders, the ambulance workers ignored their protests and got to work.

Both men finally submitted to minimal care, allowing the EMTs to clean and bandage Sam's wrists and Dean's face. At the mention of being taken to the hospital to have his stitches redone, Dean rebelled and stalked over to where Dresden was propped up on a gurney, his knee already in a brace, having a similar argument with the ambulance workers.

"Sir, You really should let us take you to the hospital," the one EMT was saying to the wizard.

Harry had his arms folded across his chest as one of the ambulance workers gently examined his throat. He fixed the one worker with a mutinous glare and was about to snap back a retort when Murphy hurried up and flashed her badge.

"I'll take him, gentlemen. Thank you for your assistance."

"Ma'am, if he isn't looked at by a doctor soon, I'm afraid that many of his injuries will take a decided turn for the worse."

"We have his preferred medical professional on call," Murphy interrupted smoothly. "And we've already prepared the facilities. If you'll just allow me to take him there, he'll receive all the care he needs."

The EMT nodded reluctantly and gestured for his assistant to come away. They retreated to the front of the ambulance. Murphy lifted herself on her toes to peer at Harry's throat. She let out a low whistle and patted his arm.

"I've already called Butters," she said softly. "He's waiting at your apartment."

"Thanks, Murph," Harry sighed gratefully and smiled at her before waving his arm at Dean.

"Mind helping me off this thing?"

Dean nodded and helped Murphy lever the wizard off the gurney. The two of them slung his arms over their shoulders and got him to the Blue Beetle, which Murphy had retrieved for him. Sliding Harry into the passenger seat, she glared at Dean. As soon as the wizard was settled, she marched the hunter a short ways away and whirled on him.

"You're wanted for murder," she snarled, "breaking and entering, arson, grave desecration, credit card fraud - the list just goes on. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't arrest you where you stand."

"You trust the wizard?" Dean crossed his arms. "Well, he trusts us."

Murphy reluctantly nodded her head.

"The fact that Harry vouched for you is the only reason you're standing out here instead of sitting cuffed in my car." She sighed. "We operate in a world where monsters can take any form they want to and powerful creatures can get in your head and manipulate you, so if he says you're good, then I'll believe him. But," her voice hardened as she stared up at the hunter, "if you and your brother aren't out of my town in one hour, I'll lock you both up for impersonating federal agents and turn you over to the proper authorities for the rest. Do I make myself clear?"

Dean nodded and Murphy stalked away to wrap things up with the fire chief. Hands in his pockets, Dean strolled back the Beetle and rested his arm against the doorjamb as he leaned down to peer into the car.

"Geez, it's easy to forget how tiny she is. Is she always like that?"

Harry just chuckled and shot the hunter a battered grin as he leaned back in the seat.

"What are you gonna do about that?" Dean asked, jerking his head towards the smoldering remains of Wren's Nest.

The wizard's grin faded as he looked out at the wreckage.

"A lot of love went into that place," he said quietly. "My friend, Michael, renovated most of it with his own hands. His wife made every quilt. I crafted the wards and laid the devil's traps myself. Jenny hung every curtain, every painting, arranged every room," Harry's voice trailed off. He blinked a few times and cleared his throat. "It was a home to a lot of people. If they want to rebuild it, I'll help them. If not, then I suppose the city will claim the land and something else will go up in its place."

"You gonna go after them?"

Harry shook his head.

"By Faerie standards, the Erlking has a rightful claim on both of them," he ground out from between clenched teeth. "What few connections I've got in the Nevernever aren't nearly enough to challenge him. And the bargains I would have to make..." he shook his head again, more vehemently. "There are some lines I won't cross for anyone."

Dean grunted sympathetically and both men stared sullenly at the charred lot across the street. Just then, interrupting their brooding before it could really form any momentum, Sam hurried over, having extracted himself from the ambulance workers. He leaned in to catch Dresden's eye and the three men watched as the emergency vehicles pulled away.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the younger Winchester and cocked his head.

"You know, it takes power to use something's Name against it like you did back there."

Sam stiffened but Harry just smiled reassuringly and settled himself more comfortably in the car.

"I'm not complaining, mind you. But it would be interesting to dig into your family tree. I'd stake a month's rent that you've got some sort of Power in your bloodline."

Sam and Dean both fidgeted slightly before the elder Winchester spoke up.

"We should probably split, Sammy. Dresden's lady-cop gave us an hour to get out of here before she arrests us."

"Well," Sam stuck his hands in his pockets. "Take care of yourself, Harry. You know how to get in touch if you ever need us."

Harry reached out of the car to clasp his hand.

"Same. Lemme know if you ever come up this way again. You two are handy in a fight."

Dean thumped the top of the car and walked over to the Impala. Sam waved at Harry and followed suit, frowning over the top of the car as his brother twisted the key in the lock and swung himself into the driver's seat.

"Hey," he looked over at Dean. "You okay?"

His brother snorted as the Impala rumbled to life and pulled away from the curb.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Sam's mouth quirked down in annoyance.

"Well, Kess... I mean... we couldn't save her."

"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean's tone left no room for argument.

Sam sighed and looked out the window as Dean flicked on the radio.

_Here I go again on my own,  
__Going down the only road I've ever known.  
__Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone..._

_Whitesnake_ blared from the speakers and he turned the volume up, knuckles white on his other hand as he gripped the steering wheel, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

* * *

**Ending Author's Note:**_ Well, this is it - the final chapter. _

_This story was fun to write, though challenging in some areas. Like some reviews pointed out, writing Harry in third-person threw his character off just enough to be challenging. Luckily, I had my Beloved Husband (an avid fan of Dresden and a tolerant viewer of "Supernatural") to help me catch the worst of it. Between him, the friend who, in essence, commissioned this story, and the "Dresden Files" and "Supernatural" Wikis, I think we did all right._

_In terms of 100% original content, Kess brought in her own issues, because I initially created her to be the One-Shot Woman in the "Supernatural" episode - you know, the one that one of the brothers is attracted to and needs saving, but who never shows up again after that one episode. Not a very glamorous position, I grant, but it fits the format and fan fiction in general. Apparently, Kess had other plans for herself, because she quickly evolved into a character with motivations and a back-story. If I return to this universe that I've concocted, I'm sure she will too._

_So, anyways, _I hope you all enjoyed the story. Thanks so much for all the reviews! If you would be interested in reading another story set in this specific crossover universe, let me know - I do have a few ideas.__

__~ Reese__

**__P.S. Just a reminder that this story is up on Inkitt . com in their Fandom/Fanfiction contest. If you enjoyed it and feel so moved, go vote for it! Contest ends Oct. 21, 2015.__**


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